


If Tomorrow Never Comes

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Canonical Character Death, Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte (past relationship) - Freeform, Doctor Sam, Doctor!Sam, Fallen Angel Castiel, Fallen!Castiel, Hospital Setting, Hurt/Comfort, In-universe AU, M/M, Paramedic Dean, Paramedic!Dean, Soul Bond, Top Dean, bottom!Castiel, canonical character coming back to life, demons have work visas, the world is ending... again, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:05:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 97,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Sam Winchester and paramedic Dean Winchester work at one of the USA's most prestigious hospitals for supernatural beings and victims of supernatural occurrences. During an especially busy shift on a full moon night, Dean and his partner, Benny, respond to a dispatch for an injured celestial being. There they meet Castiel, an angel with a broken wing and a story he's not telling anyone about. After all, governmental agreements between Earth and Heaven have kept uninvited angels off of Earth for more than a century. But Castiel has willingly Fallen to Earth in order to stop a Disaster of divine proportions before it happens. And to do that, he needs the help and supernatural connections that the Winchester brothers possess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

"Where the hell are those orderlies?!" Sam Winchester bellowed over the din of nurses and the burly man screaming bloody murder on top of the stretcher. He took a moment to look up and down the hall of the ER, but didn't see anyone else coming to their aid yet. Fucking full moons. He didn't have much time to curse it before his rookie mistake punched him in the face. Literally. A wild right hook glanced his nose and connected hard with his cheek bone, causing him to bite his tongue and stars to explode in front of his vision. With another litany of creative swearing, he turned back to the thrashing man on the bed and used his whole strength to push the offending arm down. He finally managed to pin it between his elbow and the bed rails so a harassed nurse could quickly tie the wrist down to the bed with padded leather straps. The second she finished, Sam jumped back and hustled to the foot of the bed where steel toed boots had already given another nurse a bloody nose as the patient did everything in his power to escape the bed. Trying to catch _those_ flailing limbs was a losing battle for the moment, so Sam dodged another kick and went to the other side of the bed to assist getting the man's other arm anchored. 

Just as they finished performing that minor miracle, four large orderlies rushed in and expertly captured the man's feet, holding him down firmly so that he legs could also be immobilized. 

Sam thanked them breathlessly, rubbing the sweat from his forehead and going back to his previous post on the right side of the bed to insert an IV line with fluids, anti-venom, and a heavy dose of sedatives. The patient struggled until the very end, but he couldn't fight the good stuff for long. Within 30 seconds his body went limp and they could all breathe a sigh of relief.

Sam stepped back for a minute to calm his racing heart while the nurses attached monitors to the patient, took his vitals, and drew blood for tox screens. A hand clapped Sam hard on the back, and he turned to see his older brother with a sheepish grin on his face, holding out a chemical cold pack like a peace offering. "I thought he'd be under longer. We got in there right as the cops were dealing with the succubus. Usually when we get there right after the deed, they're out for a good hour."

"Not your fault," Sam assured him, pressing the cold pack to the bruise he could already feel swelling just under his eye. "Not like succubae normally go after dudes this big. And with the full moon and all... he was bound to shake off the mating haze sooner rather than later. We got him now, though."

Dean opened his mouth to say more, but the radio clipped to his shoulder sounded with another code. He sighed and pressed the call button. "LMSH rig fifteen, Winchester and Lafitte responding. ETA, ten minutes." He shrugged without another word to his brother and jogged off towards the ambulance bay doors, waving a hand to his partner, Benny, who was carrying an armful of supplies to restock their rig, before disappearing again into the frigid January night.

Sam watched him leave with a wry smile and then turned back to his patient, biting back laughter at how all of them looked a bit more rumpled and disgruntled after the struggle. "Good work, everyone. Let's get this guy patched up and moved to detox." He signed off on the chart and handed it over to a nurse before making his way back to the nurse's station for his next adventure of the night.

Full moon nights were the worst to be on call, but Sam would be lying if he said that he hated the adrenaline rush every now and then. It's why he'd chosen Supernatural Medicine to begin with. Not many humans could boast the necessary skill set to do this kind of work, and fewer still actually pursued it. He and his brother were equally unfortunate and lucky to have been raised with a sensitivity to supernatural beings after they'd both come into contact with a demon at a young age. Dean hadn't been exposed as severely as Sam to its blood, but he was still able to cast a number of spells to great effect, draw powerful wards and sigils, and many beings often told him that he had a "calming aura" that most humans lacked. It made him a wonderful EMT, as hot-headed as he was. Sam, having been directly exposed to the demon blood as a baby, had much more of an intuition for other supernatural beings. He also wasn't too shabby at spell casting, either. It came in handy when someone brought in didn't want to admit to what exactly they were or what they'd been exposed to. Plus, he could exorcise demons quite readily. And his passion for both school and ancient lore helped him all the way through med school. Also, the hazard pay and benefits were excellent.

He flipped through the folders lined up neatly in the tray at check in. Demon possession, vampire bite, a couple more sex demons, possible werewolf that could just be a panic attack. And all before midnight. He tapped the folders in his hands and straightened his white lab coat. No one could say he wasn't earning his next twenty-four hours off.

xXx

"What do we have?" Benny asked in his unhurried Southern drawl from the back of the ambulance as he restocked the cabinets from their last call. He was quick, efficient, and could roll with the hard right turns without knocking his head on something and only complaining mildly when Dean was driving. That alone made him the best partner that the elder Winchester had ever had.

Dean blasted the horn at a congested intersection and swore profusely at all the people trying to butt around the turn lanes ahead of the ambulance. "Assholes!" he yelled, then modulated his voice to answer Benny. "Celestial being of some sort. Dunno, never had the code before. You?"

Benny paused in his restocking to pull a binder down from its holder. He flipped through it quickly to find the code. "Angel," he said doubtfully. "When's the last time we had one of those down here?"

"Never, that I can remember," Dean answered, pulling another hard right that had Benny flailing to catch himself against the opposite wall. "Maybe dispatch got it wrong. We've been having a cold war with Heaven for centuries."

"I hope the call's right," Benny said, amused. "Be interesting to meet one, ya know? Watch the turns, brother. Don't feel like getting a concussion tonight."

"Sorry," Dean said, in an _I'm not at all sorry_ tone. "Coming up on it."

Benny pushed his way to the passenger seat to peer out the windshield. "Huh. _Mon dieu_. Crater like _that_? I'm thinking dispatch got this one right."

The crater he spoke of took up nearly the entirety of some upper-middle class family's front lawn; a jarring sight among the rows of 3 story brick houses with neatly manicured lawns and pruned trees. It was the kind of neighborhood Sam couldn't wait to move into when he finally found someone to start a family with. 

Dean maneuvered the ambulance into the driveway, scattering a small group of families in bathrobes and pajamas as he parked right next to the crater. The cops and firefighters had done a good job of cordoning off the area around it, and they didn't look like they were in any particular hurry, so whatever had happened must not have been too bad for either the property owners or the poor being who'd ended up making the hole. He put the rig in park and exited from the driver's side while Benny opened the back doors and pulled down the stretcher.

Shouldering his bag, Dean trotted towards a group of police officers near the edge of the crater and they waved him over. "Hey, Bobby," he said cheerfully as he approached. "What brings you out from behind your desk on this fine evening?"

"Watch that tone, Winchester," Bobby Singer admonished with his trademark scowl. "District wanted me down here since we seem to have had an unscheduled delivery from On High."

"Really an angel, then?"

"Yeah. Doesn't seem to be too hurt, but he ain't talking to anyone. Looks kinda shell shocked, actually."

"No worries," Dean said breezily. "I got this." He ducked under the police tape when Bobby held it up for him and side skidded his way down about five feet to the bottom of the crater. He couldn't see the angel yet in the darkness, but directly at the epicenter of the hole was another grouping of first responders blocking it from view. They heard Dean's approach and took a couple of steps back.

The angel was... not exactly how Dean had pictured them. His immediate assessment was purely clinical. Male vessel. Early to mid-thirties. Awake and alert. Sitting up. Maybe some mild shock. Dirty suit, no obvious blood. As he got closer, though, he noticed the wings. Inky black. The left was arched behind his shoulder at rest, brushing the dirt behind him, but the right one. Dean winced with sympathy. It was twisted at an unnatural angle, several of the feathers askew. And while the good wing twitched when he noticed a new face joining the gathering, the right one held unnaturally still.

Most of the first responders were holding flashlights, careful to keep them from shining directly into the angel's face, but it was just enough light to make out the finer details as Dean knelt down with his kit right in front of him, purposefully filling the angel's vision to draw his complete attention. And his clinical assessment screeched to a halt because, _hot damn_. Everything from the slim athletic build, to the short and dark messy hair, to the wide blue eyes, pushed pretty much every one of Dean's buttons.

"Hey," he said as softly and kindly as he could to further draw the angel's attention away from what was happening around him. "My name's Dean. I'm a paramedic. I'm here to help you out. Can you understand me?"

The angel's eyes flashed with understanding and dilated with the first signs of pain and fear. Shock was starting to wear off, then. He nodded and Dean smiled encouragingly. 

"Good. Can you tell me what happened?" He dug in his bag for his penlight and shined it in the man's eyes. Pupils responsive. The bright flash caused the angel to squint.

"I fell from Heaven," he said at length, following Dean's every movement, and _damn, hot damn_ his voice was gravel and old leather. Which he probably shouldn't be thinking about since Angel of the Lord, and all that.

"How much pain are you in?" He reached out took the angel's hand, pressing his fingers over the pulse point. Rapid, but he didn't really have a baseline to begin with. The course on angels had been short and sweet. They usually healed themselves and rarely interacted with humans. There hadn't been a reported sighting of one on Earth, even invited, in half a century. Boom. Done.

"Quite a bit," the angel winced. 

"Is it all in the wing, or did you smash up something else?"

The angel wiggled a little bit, testing his limbs. "I think... it's just my wing."

Blood pressure also an odd reading, but something to put on the paperwork. "Guess I know the answer to that pickup line now."

"I'm sorry... what?"

"You know. 'Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?' Seriously? You ever been down here before?"

"No." A small smile peeked out through the obvious pain, and Dean felt a curl of warmth in his chest at it. So unfair. He wondered if all angels were this magnetic because they were Heavenly beings, or if Dean was just appreciative of this one having just about all of his preferences for his appearance.

He coughed a little. "Ah. My bad, then. Right, I'm done here for the moment. Do I need to brace your wing here, or can you walk without it doing more damage?"

The angel shifted, and Dean automatically reached out to steady him should he try to stand. "I can manage," he answered.

"Good. There's not enough light right here to really see what we're dealing with, so I'd like to get you to the ambulance before trying to splint it. You ready? Heave ho, let's get you up." He grunted as he helped the angel to his feet. Dude was a _lot_ heavier than anticipated. He'd always assumed they'd be more... wispy. "What can I call you?" he asked as he guided them carefully up the hill, bracing his hand around the angel's waist on his uninjured side.

The angel tilted his head to the side, an obvious sign of confusion at the question.

"What's your name?" Dean clarified.

"Castiel."

"Nice to meet you." At the top, he helped Castiel duck under the police tape just as some screeching housewife was letting Bobby have it. 

"Who's going to be responsible for cleaning up the mess that thing and all of you tromping around my flower beds have made?"

Dean winked as he passed the Captain who looked about ready to throttle the lady. "Don't you have supernatural occurrence coverage on your homeowner's insurance?"

"Just act of God," the lady fumed.

They were nearly to the ambulance now, but Dean clearly heard Bobby say sarcastically in his distinct Texas accent, "I think this counts."

Dean chuckled at that as he and Benny helped Castiel settle onto the stretcher with a blanket and secured his legs for transport. "This here's Benny. He's my partner," Dean said in his conversational manner, still trying to keep Castiel distracted. It only partially worked as the angel's eyes flicked around to take in every detail of the other paramedic and the rig that he was loaded into shortly. "Slow roll," Dean said to Benny, figuring if Castiel wasn't bleeding out and still responsive, there was no need to add to his anxiety with noisy sirens. His partner nodded and slid into the driver's seat, not turning on the sirens, but leaving on the lights. Benny was a much more careful driver, which was a good thing because Castiel looked like he wanted to jump out of the rig at the first chance. Dean could sympathize with his fear, but wondered just what an angel was doing on Earth who hadn't even been briefed about what he might expect. Or trained how to land. Or _something_. No one knew much about their heavenly neighbors, but the few angels who had visited Earth in the past all seemed to have been given their missions and only met with the proper government officials. Certainly there were none that had crash landed in some random family's yard, confused and afraid. Bobby was probably going to have a field day sorting it all out. Probably yell at a lot of people. He enjoyed doing that.

"Where are we going?" the soft and even, but worried voice turned Dean's attention back to the angel.

"Lawrence Memorial Supernatural Hospital. Lucky you landed where you did. It's the only hospital for the supernatural in the entire state."

"Oh," Castiel answered, turning another shade paler.

Dean reached over and placed a comforting hand on his knee. "You all right? Is there anything else I can do for you? I mean, we don't learn a lot about angels in our EMT training because we've never really had any that needed any medical attention before. I know some healing spells and stuff, but do you have any idea whether or not standard medications will work on you? If so, I can give you something for the pain."

Castiel shook his head with another confused look. "There's nothing that I'm aware of. Given time, I will heal." Something about the way he said it sounded unsure. That intrigued Dean, but he didn't press for more information.

"Whatever you say, man," Dean said doubtfully. "We're almost there. I'll get you in with my brother. He's the best supernatural doc in the country." Castiel said nothing. He merely leaned back onto his good side and made himself as comfortable as possible.

Minutes later, Benny pulled the rig into the ambulance bay and Dean braced the stretcher for transport. He bent forward to open the doors, Sam and his favorite nurse, Meg, waiting for them outside the doors. Dean unlatched the stretcher from the floor, and Benny moved to assist in guiding it out of the ambulance while Meg watched from a few feet back.

"Had to see this for myself," Meg said as they rushed inside out of the cold. "Never seen a tree topper before. This should be interesting."

"His name is Castiel," Dean said harshly. He couldn't really tell if the twinge of anger at her slur was because Meg rubbed him the wrong way or because he felt a sort of affection for the attractive angel. There certainly _was_ something about him beyond the earnestness. No doubt there was going to be a lot of curiosity among the hospital staff and the authorities as to why Castiel was here in the first place. But that could wait until he was at least comfortable and not so out of his element. "You shouldn't even be here. There's protocol for which beings can interact with others, and yours don't make the angel list, sweetheart."

That drew Castiel's attention and he suddenly straightened himself up in an aggressive stance as best as he could in his awkward position on the stretcher. "Demon," he hissed. His eyes flashed with a blue-white light and he raised his hand. 

Alarmed, Dean planted himself between the angel and the demon, and wasn't that just super surreal. "Hey, hey, Cas," he said in his professionally calming tone. "Power down there, buddy, she's fine."

Castiel didn't seem to have heard him. He didn't move, but the light intensified as Meg backed away slowly.

Dean did the only thing he could think of, which, in retrospect, could also have been super stupid and gotten him instantly smote as well. But everyone else there was useless, backing away in fear. Dean grabbed Castiel's raised hand. It was so hot with the growing power that if he held on too long it would probably give him blistering burns. The angel startled, gaze flying to Dean's earnest one. The light faded immediately and his eye color returned to normal. Dean sighed as the heat also faded. He kept his grip on the angel's hand, though. "Meg's okay," he said again, firmly. "She has a work visa. She's a nurse here; one of the best."

"What." Castiel's voice was completely devoid of emotion like his brain couldn't process his feelings and Dean's unbelievable words at the same time. Dean couldn't stop his small lopsided grin at the angel's gobsmacked face.

"Not all demons are here to damn souls," Dean explained. "Some of them, like Meg, have broken away from Hell. They have jobs and mortgages and driver's licenses and everything."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Yeah, now that that's cleared up, I'm outta here. Don't particularly feel like being smited tonight. See ya later, Clarence." And then she disappeared back through the bay doors.

Dean took Meg's usual position to help wheel Castiel inside, rattling off the patient's status. 

"I'm Doctor Winchester," Sam introduced himself as they rolled the stretcher away from the public rooms and towards a private one. Dean raised an eyebrow, but no one said anything about it. "I'll be taking care of you while you're here. I'm so sorry about Meg. I couldn't stop her, but I'll keep her and any other unapproved being away from your room from now on."

"Dean's brother," Castiel said faintly. "Another human." Sam beamed. Of course he did. He was nothing if not a huge fanboy of angel lore since humans had a lot of it, but barely anything concrete as they did with nearly every other mythical being around.

"Nothing to worry about, Cas," Dean said reassuringly. The angel's eyes locked onto his again and held as if Dean's face was a life vest on a sinking ship. "My brother here got the brains, and I got the looks, so you're in good hands now."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Can I please examine my patient now?"

"He's all yours." Dean gave the angel a crooked grin and a wink. "See ya around, man. Take care of yourself."

Castiel's eyes widened further with unease. It punched Dean right in the gut, but his job was done now, and another call was blasting through his radio. He had to ask the dispatcher to repeat it before he jogged off with a final look over his shoulder. He wished he hadn't. Castiel was still watching him, tousled, and looking an awful lot like a scared and overwhelmed kid. Dean made a mental note to ask Sam later about visiting protocol. Until then, he and Benny had a changeling situation to attend to. Full moons, man. Crazier every time.


	2. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a surprise request from Captain Singer.

Seeing as how it was a full moon night, Dean and Benny's shift ended earlier than usual at 1:00 am when they returned to the hospital to clean the ambulance before passing it off to the next shift. They normally worked a full twelve hours and then twenty-four off duty, but on the normal high volume days like holidays and full moons, shifts were cut to eight hours to help all EMT's remain as alert as possible since high volume with supernatural cases was also higher risk.

"Even for a full moon," Benny said conversationally from where he was soaping up the floor in the back of the ambulance, "you gotta admit tonight was busier than it shoulda been."

"No kidding," Dean answered around a yawn so big his jaw popped. "Feels like I could sleep the entire off time."

"Same," Benny said. He finished his task and dumped the bucket of soapy water down the drain in the middle of the ambulance bay. Then he sauntered back over, flung the damp towel he'd been using over his shoulder, and collapsed onto the rig's tailgate.

"I got your bonus for you, though," Dean said, nodding towards a small red and white cooler on the ground by Benny's feet.

"Thanks, chief," Benny said exhaustedly. He bent over and opened the cooler, grabbing the IV bag with his favorite bloodtype in it. He cracked open the bottom and sucked it like those gel drinks runners favored during marathons. Dean was one of the few people who never so much as flinched when the man showed his true colors. Most people still balked at working with vampires, or any other supernatural being, for that matter. Dean hated the racism, honestly. Any supernatural being who wanted to be employed among the human population had to be fully vetted. Benny had broken away from his nest decades ago, had no contact with him, and hadn't fed on a live human since the 50's. He'd gone through rigorous training, been interviewed and shadowed by nearly every government agency, and finally earned the right to a work visa. Dean thought Benny was one of the most loyal and decent guys he knew. And honestly, when any racist asshole questioned his ability to resist biting one of the hordes of meat suits wandering around in his proximity, Benny always got a look on his face that was awfully similar to the face Dean made when presented with salads. His vampirism was nothing to Dean. He'd go to bat and then some for his partner. So, he did what he could to make the man's life easier, including running down to the reserved blood bank for feeding with the same casualness he used running across the street to Starbucks. Hell, he appreciated what Benny was doing so much that Dean himself was a registered Supernatural Blood Donor. He had a card and everything. His partner didn't know that, though.

Benny tossed the empty container back into the cooler. "Most of the time I hate it when those things are still cold, but damned if it wasn't refreshing after the night we had."

Dean laughed at Benny's casual tone. Talking about drinking blood in public was fairly taboo, but Dean was pleased that Benny trusted him enough to joke about it once he'd found out exactly how little Dean cared about his undead status. "We could go out for a couple of beers."

Benny chuckled. "You look about dead on your feet, brother. 'Scuse the pun."

Dean grinned. "Eh, you're probably right about that." He finished locking the supply cabinet and they both walked together back into the hospital to return the ambulance's keys for the next shift. They parted there. Benny made his way through the basement level hallways to return the cooler and Dean caught the elevator up to the staff parking garage. He stepped into the dimly lit deck right as his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID before swiping to accept it. "Hey, Bobby," he said cheerfully. "What's the news?"

_"Need 'ya to come down to the station later,"_ he said without preamble.

"Whatever it is you think I did, or Sam told you I did, I didn't do," he answered.

_"Yeah, like_ that's _not suspicious at all."_ Bobby's eye roll was nearly audible. _"It's about the angel from before. Castiel. I need to ask you some questions. Been talking to all the people who've had contact with him."_

"He causing trouble?" Dean doubted that. He knew that angels were pretty much rock stars when it came to the power scale. There weren't many things that could take them on. But Castiel had seemed harmless, except for that tense moment with Meg, but come on, angels were _supposed_ to smite demons. Instead, Castiel had seemed frightened. More like he'd been abandoned in the wilderness. 

_"No, but he ain't telling us anything either. Angels don't come down to Earth for no reason, and the last time that they did without warning us first, there were plagues and crap. So unless we get some more details, we're going on alert and keeping contact with him to a bare minimum."_

Dean twirled his keys in his hand while he walked to his car. He _did_ want to tell Bobby that there had definitely been something weird about the angel. Besides being an angel showing themselves to the average human, of course. But he kept it to himself for now and just agreed to the questioning after he'd had a solid eight hours of rack time. He trusted the Captain, but that gift didn't extend to a lot of the people he worked with. Dean had an irrational urge to protect Castiel however he could. It was the way the angel had looked at him with trust born of fear of the unknown. Sam had given him that very same look when they were kids moving constantly to parts unknown, and it flared up Dean's protective instincts something fierce when he saw the expression on anyone. It was part of the reason he was such a good and calming EMT when needed. Something besides the mortal plane had spooked the angel all the way to a huge crater in suburban Kansas. And it probably wasn't the kind of something that ended with smiles and handshakes afterwards.

But none of that was his problem right now. His priority was getting home and curling up on his memory foam mattress.

The drive to the bunker he shared with Sam was uneventful, traffic light before morning rush hour. In no time at he had pulled open the heavy metal bomb shelter door and made his way down the stairs. Aside from the spell books and medical textbooks spread across the war room's table, everything else was perfectly tidy. Dean silently thanked his brother for taking up an obvious cleaning spree before his shift. Dean was a little guilty that he'd left a pretty big mess for his brother to take care of, but he'd done some extra shifts on dispatch when Kevin had left on vacation for a week to visit his mother. He'd been too exhausted to do more than wash his own laundry and move his dirty dishes from the table to the sink.

He should probably shower first, but fuck it. His sheets needed a wash, anyway. Cleanliness was tomorrow's problem. He shuffled to his room, feeling his exhaustion acutely now that he was home, stripped off his uniform, naked except for his boxers, and dropped himself face first onto his mattress with a groan of bliss. He fell asleep in seconds.

xXx

When Dean woke up, he squinted over at his clock to see that he'd slept the afternoon away. Sam was probably home by now. He yawned and scratched absently at his stomach before sliding from his bed. The full body stretch felt awesome and forced out another yawn. Of course, arching his arms up and as far back as they'd go gave him a distinct wiff of himself and he winced. Definitely time for a shower.

He took extra time under the unholy wonderful water pressure in the bathroom, shaved, and then dressed in his most well-worn jeans and t-shirt. 

"Coffee," he muttered to himself with another yawn. He padded to the kitchen in socked feet to find his brother leaning against the counter and eating a bowl of his disgusting twiggy cereal slowly, as if he barely had the energy to get the spoon up to his mouth. "You need sleep," Dean said by way of greeting, pouring himself a large mug of coffee. One thing about having somewhat clashing schedules most of the time was that both of them made sure that there was always hot coffee at the ready in the bunker.

"More than ever," Sam agreed with a yawn that made Dean yawn in response, which caused Sam to yawn again. "Stop that," he muttered, eyes watering from the continued yawning.

"Can't help it," Dean answered. "How'd the rest of your shift go?" He sipped at the black coffee carefully so as not to burn his tongue.

"Busy as hell," Sam answered. "More admissions than usual. And then I had to go down to the station to talk to Bobby. And then I had to brief the staff on the angel. And _then_ I had to make a strict approval list for his treatment team and run it by Bobby. I just got home."

Dean's eyes widened. "Just _now_? Jesus, Sammy, don't work yourself to death."

"Says you who took on a 48 hour shift in ambo and dispatch," he returned with a small smile as he took another bite of cereal. "We need hobbies."

"Or to get laid," Dean teased. Sam laughed tiredly.

"You talked to Bobby yet?"

"Nah, he said I could come in today. I'll head there in a little while."

"Good. Hey, can you pick up some more bloodpaint while you're out? The wards and sigils are wearing off. We need to repaint them."

"It's because you bought that cheap store brand shit last time you were at Home Depot. It was barely waterproof. Better to buy the more expensive stuff that lasts longer because otherwise we'll end up spending more over time having to buy the cheap ones more often."

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd never heard the end of it when he'd brought home the store brand last time. It was then that he'd discovered _exactly_ how anal his brother was about the wards and sigils. Dean wasn't often obsessive about anything besides classic rock, his Impala, and apparently brands of paint specifically formulated for drawing better magical symbols. He'd lectured Sam for hours between chanting spells as he'd gone around the inside and outside of the bunker replacing the symbols with a skilled hand, and adding a flourish of concealment spells so that they weren't visible to anyone. Gotta keep up the curb appeal, after all. "I know, I get it," Sam said wearily. "Next time I'll be more mindful of what I buy."

Dean shrugged, finishing his coffee and pouring himself another in a travel mug. "Anything else we need?"

Sam glanced to the fridge where their combined grocery list was. "Nothing that can't wait unless you feel like going to the grocery store."

Dean tore off the paper from the pad and pocketed it. "I can do that. You just get some shut-eye."

Sam nodded with a final massive yawn, barely able to keep his eyes open. He rinsed his bowl out in the sink and put it in the dishwasher before mumbling his good night and stumbling towards the dorms.

Dean patted his pockets to make sure he had his keys, wallet, and cell phone, before picking up his coffee and making his way up the stairs to the entrance. Sam was right. He'd been too tired to notice last night, but he could feel that the wards were definitely depleted. He _hmm'd_ a little as he touched the spot on the front door where an invisible protection spell was. Even with the lousier paint, it shouldn't have faded quite so fast. He was sure he hadn't cut any corners refreshing them a few weeks ago. Oh, well. It happened every now and then with a particularly potent full moon. Nothing his preferred paint couldn't fix. He shouldered the heavy door open and secured it tightly behind him. On a regular day he would have gone straight out and back to replenish such depleted spells as quickly as possible, but the day after a full moon was laughably low-risk for supernatural occurrences. Plus, he and Sam were extra secure in their underground home. 

The bunker had been passed down through the family for generations full of supernatural hunters, Men of Letters, collectors, and now medical professionals specializing in All Things Not Human. And the best part about their home was that it was hard to find, easy to lock down in an emergency, and not in a populated area. That made it not worth the effort to most criminals, human or otherwise. Plus it was within the living radius of the hospital and only took them about ten minutes to get there, even in traffic.

Dean ran by the hardware store first, picking up a few gallons of bloodpaint and then drove downtown to the police headquarters. He told the admin that he was there for a questioning and she waved him back to the captain's office. Dean thanked her and sauntered back, calling out greetings to the cops he knew. He knocked on Bobby's glass door and the man glanced up from a small mound of paperwork, waving him in.

"Thanks for comin' down," he said gruffly, pushing the stack away and digging for his legal pad that had been buried under the teetering stack of forms. "Can you run me through your activities up until you met the angel Castiel?"

Straight to business, then. Not like Dean could blame him. Bobby was looking especially harassed this afternoon. Everyone in the government was probably riding his ass to get answers as quickly as possible because no one liked an unannounced angel coming to town. So, Dean talked him through the call with as much detail as he remembered. He kept it as bland as possible, but didn't outright omit anything important or lie. When he was finished, Bobby set down his pen and pulled open a folder.

"Seems like you pretty much have the same story as everyone else. The only difference is that he actually _spoke_ to you. He hasn't even been talking to the doctors or nurses."

Dean crossed his ankle over his knee. "So, you've really got no idea why he crash landed here?"

Bobby rolled his shoulders and sat back in his chair with a long sigh. "Nothing. And our political arrangement with On High prevents us from trying to contact them or listen in on Angel Radio. We're stuck unless our boy Castiel gives us something to work with."

Dean chewed his bottom lip for a second. "Not for nothing, Bobby, but you _do_ tend to come on a little strong sometimes. You met that angel. He was spooked like he'd just landed on Mars or something. Maybe you should try a more, I dunno, gentle approach?"

Bobby eyed him thoughtfully. "You know, you may be right."

Beaming, Dean said, "I totally am!"

"Glad you think so," he answered smugly. "I'm sending you over to have a crack at him. Thanks for volunteering."

Dean jolted and held up his hands. "Hell, no! Bobby, come on, man, I've got enough to do without having to try to extract state secrets from an angel. I'm not a cop, anyway. Aren't there like, laws about this?"

"The only laws governing our relationship with angels is to not bother each other," Bobby argued. "And since this fella may be violating those laws, I've been told to use whatever means necessary to find out why our winged friend is down here. And I'd rather keep things civil."

Dean felt a small zing of alarm. "Wait, are you suggesting that you've got clearance to _torture an angel_?"

Wincing, Bobby shook his head. "This goes pretty deep, Dean, not gonna lie. Everyone's asking about it, all the way up to the top. We're trying to keep this as quiet as possible until we know something, but the DA is threatening to go to the military or FBI, or wherever he feels he should, to get rid of this guy. I'm keeping those yahoos at bay, but they're only gonna give me so much time before this turns into as big a mess as the plague years."

"Fuck," Dean breathed. "It's a tight spot you're putting me in. I mean, yeah, Castiel _talked_ to me before, but I'm not a trained interrogator or anything. You can't expect to put all that pressure on me and actually get results. I don't even know where to start."

"Probably why you're the best option we have," Bobby admitted. "I'm not trying to put you in danger, Dean. Lord knows I've kept you out of it long enough. What I'm _asking_ is that you go and talk to the guy and see if we can avoid an armed conflict."

Anxiety settled deep in Dean's chest. "I get that, I guess. I know I can't say no, but I don't want this on my plate."

Bobby gave him a truly sympathetic look. "It's a lot to ask. Believe me, if I had options, I'd take them all before you. I did. Just... please. You're my only hope."

"Okay, you don't need to lay it on thick, Princess Leia," he muttered. "I'll see what I can do, but don't count on me. I might have been okay with him as an EMT, but he'll probably know exactly what I'm up to. Then he won't want to keep talking to me, same as the rest of you."

"Thank you, Dean," Bobby said sincerely. "I'm sorry to ask you for this. I really am. Just take it slow and see if you can get the angel to talk at all. Start small, y'know? Don't just go in there guns blazing."

"Make him think he's my friend," Dean said distastefully. 

"It ain't always easy," Bobby said evasively.

Dean stood and wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. "I hear you," he said. "You owe me."

Bobby nodded grimly. "If it turns out it's as bad as some people are thinking it is, the whole damn country'll probably owe you."

Dean grimaced. "That does nothing to soothe me, Bobby."

The police captain waved him off. "Ain't what I'm here for," he said. "Get lost, kid. Good luck."

Dean nodded to him and left the police station on heavier legs than he'd walked in with. Fuck it all. How was it that Dean Winchester, of all people, had to have been the one to answer that call? Had to be the only one the angel wanted to talk to? Had to be the one to be walking into a situation that felt an awful lot like defusing a bomb? Why did it have to be an angel, of all things? He didn't exactly have anything against them in general, but he knew as much about them as anyone else who dealt with supernatural beings. And most people looked upon them as demigods and something to be feared. Of course, no one knew if all of the Bible stories were true, though they tended to give them the benefit of the doubt since many instances had been corroborated by historians. 

All Dean knew was that angels were total bullshit. The Bible said that they were around to protect humans and help them out, but hell if they'd ever done that for the average Joe. They'd turned up to dignitaries and royalty every now and then, but that just showed another preference for the 1%, leaving the 99% out on the streets. 

Not just that, but angels were supposed to smite demons and the truly evil stuff back to Hell where they belonged. But they didn't. They fucking _didn't_. They didn't do shit for humanity. Angels failing to do their God-given day jobs were the reason the Winchester brothers had no parents and they themselves were so gifted as supernaturalists, because of a demon that had been allowed to run around unchecked by the freaking angels. 

In general, Dean didn't want a damn thing to do with the lot of them. But he _had_ helped Castiel, and that angel had seemed more like he didn't know why he was on Earth. Plus, he was super hot. That helped. But if Bobby thought that Dean wasn't going to get some answers to some lifelong questions while he was "making friends" with Castiel, the old man had another thing coming. It might be the only opportunity he had to learn more about angels as a group, and also find out why humans like him and his brother ended up they way they did. In fact, Dean thought with a smirk, he'd probably be the envy of the whole theological academic community if they found out some ordinary EMT had been given a blank slate to ask a real, live angel anything that he wanted. That thought cheered him up a little. Sam would be jealous as hell. He wasn't _exactly_ an academic, but he studied the books they'd collected in the bunker's library extensively. He also wrote papers about his findings and published them in his spare time. He called it a hobby, but Dean was pretty sure that nerd would be perfectly happy making research a full time job. He'd probably give _anything_ to be able to question Castiel at his leisure, and not just ask him medical questions.

Dean unlocked the driver's side of the Impala and decided to head straight to the hospital since it was only a few blocks away from headquarters. Better to get cracking as soon as possible rather than have Bobby or whoever else breathing down his neck. The sooner they could solve this, the faster they could all breathe easy. He arrived at the hospital in no time, pulling into the staff parking garage. His hands clenched the steering wheel for a second as he took a deep breath and psyched himself up. He honestly didn't know what he was more worried about; having the possible fate of the world in his hands, or lying about being friends to an angel who looked about as threatening as a kicked puppy. _Now or never, Winchester._ His breath pushed out of his lungs forcefully and he stepped out of the carr, slamming the door with purpose behind him. Time to face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what's going to happen?????!!!!! ;D


	3. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel lets Dean in on his mission. They make a plan.

The first thing Dean thought upon entering the hospital's private VIP wing was, _how did all these people sneak up here_? He counted no less than fifteen people hovering near the glass windows outside of, what he guessed, was Castiel's room. The private wing was invite only, and those passes weren't given out to just anyone. Being the best supernatural hospital in the state, and a top five in the country, Lawrence Memorial attracted a large amount of high profile patients. The private wing had been built about a decade ago on private donations, and it showed. The rest of the hospital wasn't outdated or dilapidated by any stretch of the imagination, but the private wing was almost like a resort it its decor and amenities. It could only be accessed by private elevator, either with a security escort, or special permission keyed into an employee's badge. Clearly, Bobby had made the decision to beg for Dean's access, because when he'd approached the card scanner at the elevator bay, he'd hesitated. Trying to swipe without clearance kicked off an alarm and instant security dispatch. He'd braced for it, slid his staff ID, and been shocked when the elevator doors had immediately opened.

He went straight to the recovery floor and was barely given a second glance by anyone. There was no one to mind him, anyhow. They were all hovering near Castiel's room. Frankly, Dean was surprised to see so many people in one place. The private wing staff was kept small for a reason, and most only had access to certain floors, regardless of who they were. Dean took a step towards them, when a surly voice said, "all right, everyone, there's nothing to see here. Get back to your stations and do your damn jobs."

The crowd dispersed with a murmur of displeasure, all shuffling back to their work. Dean approached the man blocking the doorway with a grin. "Been a while, Vic."

Victor Henriksen turned his scowl towards Dean. Still, he held out a hand for the man to shake. "Thought Bobby'd been pulling my leg about this one," he said, nodding over his shoulder.

"FBI involved already?"

"Not officially. This is more of a personal favor. Lots of ruffled feathers, excuse the pun, it's too easy with an angel, up the ranks trying to shove their way in on this, but Bobby's got jurisdiction for now. There aren't any real jurisdiction protocols about how to handle these sorts of things because they've never happened. At least to my knowledge. I'm a glorified babysitter right now, but my boss is backing off a little knowing one of his own is down here, and it's buying Singer more time, so I'm not complaining."

Dean gave him a suspicious look. "You requested this, didn't you?"

"Hell, _yes_ , I did," Victor said with feeling. "An _angel_? You bet your ass I was on the first flight out. This is crazy shit."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, but you might have put yourself at ground zero for the apocalypse for all we know."

"Eh," he shrugged. "I've had worse. Like with those Leviathans back when. That's why you're here, anyway, so don't be a doomsayer yet. Castiel's been quiet in there. Not combative to any doctors or tests or anything, but he hasn't said a damn word since you brought him in."

"That's what Bobby told me," Dean said.

Victor stepped slightly to the side and swept his arm out in a welcoming gesture. "Best of luck. Close the door behind you, so these damn vultures don't hear anything. If something goes wrong, the silent alarm's under the lip of the bedside table. Yell if you have to."

Dean nodded, feeling another thrill of anxiety. He'd failed to consider the _real, actual danger_ of being alone in a room with an angel, which, granted, he should have done. All powerful beings and such. He tried not to let his nervousness show as he squared his shoulders and stepped into the room. Victor reached behind him and shut the door soundly.

Again, Dean was struck with just how unreasonably attractive he found Castiel. His face was in profile since he was staring out the window. The curtains were open, letting the sun cast a hue of gold across his skin and caused his dark hair to glow with a small aura. How could something so heavenly also look so _human_? 

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said softly, not having even glanced in his direction.

Startled, Dean took a half step back. "Hey, Castiel," he answered after a pause. The angel was pretty much how he remembered, though his inky black wings had seemingly vanished. His voice sounded the same though, and when he turned his head to regard Dean, his blue eyes were still arresting. The fear was long gone now, replaced with a certain lack of expression, but Dean decided that he didn't catch any threatening vibes. Not like he'd throw caution to the wind just yet. He approached the leather chair near the end table and sat down a respectful distance from the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked for lack of anything better to lead off the conversation with.

"I'm well," he answered, eyes boring into Dean, sweeping over the length of his body and face until the human squirmed a bit before settling. Angel. Right. He probably had X-ray vision or something. He could probably _read minds_. Sonofabitch. "You look unwell yourself," Castiel said, unsure.

Dean shifted again with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Can I be honest here, Cas?"

The angel tilted his head with a look of confusion. Fuck. Probably the nickname. Dean hoped he hadn't accidentally said something horribly offensive and punishable by death. Castiel said, "of course."

During the drive to the hospital, Dean had made the decision that he didn't like having the fate of the world in his hands. He wasn't a "fate of the whole world" kind of guy. He was an EMT with a GED and technical college under his belt, and he was pretty fucking sure that saving the world from another angel plague necessitated at _least_ a Bachelor's Degree in this day and age. In other words, this was totally not for him. He took a deep breath and let Castiel know that as quickly as possible. "Everyone's really twitchy about an angel coming down to Earth with no warning whatsoever. Bobby Singer, the police captain, is kinda shitting himself down at the station. For some reason you're being weird and only talking to me, so I've been drafted to come and talk to you about what's going on so that, I dunno, the world doesn't get blown up without giving the rest of us fair warning or some shit. Fuck, sorry, I probably shouldn't swear around an angel. I'm sorry. Jesus, you'd think I could watch my language when-" he cut off his rambling with a slight noise of dismay when he saw Castiel's expression shift. _Is he...?_ Was... was Castiel _laughing_ at him? Well, that just didn't compute to Dean. There wasn't any _actual_ laughter. Rather, there was this... thing. Dean couldn't describe it if he'd been offered a million dollars to. It was the tiniest shift, more in the eyes than in the mouth, but somehow Dean could _tell_ that Castiel was amused. "Sorry," he finally muttered, trailing off to stare down at his fidgeting hands.

"I am not offended," Castiel said seriously. Though... there was a slight tint of humor there, too. _Dammit, Dean, you always joked about going to Hell, but you might for real. Fuck! Stop thinking so loud, he'll hear you!_

Dean coughed hard over the sound of his own panicking mind. "Can you, like, read minds?"

Castiel looked startled by the question, because why wouldn't he be? He probably thought Dean was a freaking moron, making so little sense. "No," he answered carefully, sure enough, eyeing Dean warily.

Dean slumped visibly in his chair. "That's great! I mean, just curious. Not many people have any idea what the full range of angel mojo does."

Again with the shock and confusion as Castiel's eyebrows shot up. "What is 'mojo?' Do you mean my grace?"

"I guess so. Whatever gives you power from on high, or whatever."

Frowning thoughtfully, as if uncertain how much to reveal to Dean, the angel finally said, "angels are very powerful."

"Yeah, no shit," Dean snorted. Then he rolled his eyes at himself again. Why did he seem to suddenly have no other words in his vocabulary besides swear words? It really was harder to abstain when you had to. "Sorry," he said again.

This time, Castiel's mirth was obvious. He smiled and Dean almost had to scoot his chair back because it hit him like a full body blow. He could _not_ handle it. "Your language doesn't bother me, I assure you. It's... funny." He said the last word like it was completely foreign to him. "You need not refrain for my comfort."

"Good to know," Dean said dumbly, still transfixed by the angel's smile.

He must have gone on with the creepy staring for too long, because after a while, the angel shifted up higher on the bed and said, "is now an appropriate time to address your earlier concerns? I am not familiar with human protocols for pleasantries before business."

"Oh, yeah, no, we're cool, Cas. They might kick me out soon, anyway, so it's probably best we get the business part out of the way."

That flipped a switch in the angel. His open, curious gaze hardened, but he didn't look away from Dean. Though he still didn't have what Dean would call a "normal range of facial expressions," he found that if he watched closely enough, he could pick up on the cues. And he was pretty sure that Cas was angry. Not at him, but at something and it obviously cut deep. Still, it made Dean more uncomfortable, mostly because he had no frame of reference for what level anger tipped to vengeful wrath. "I will answer any questions that you have, Dean, but first you need to promise me something."

Dean swallowed hard. He wasn't even remotely ready to promise anyone anything, least of all an angel. He could only think that it wouldn't be an even trade, seeing how little angels had done for humanity for the last couple thousand years. Then again, Castiel was willing to tell him. That was better than anyone else had gotten, and since deep space colonies hadn't been established yet in case of Earth exploding, Dean imagined he had to do everything in his power to get answers. Whether or not it came in the form of an empty promise. "Yeah, you got it. Anything, Cas."

Those cerulean eyes grabbed his full attention again for a long, frozen minute that felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. "You must take me to where I had intended to land."

Dean blinked. "Uh." Was that it? The angel wanted a _ride_ somewhere? No big deal, unless he had been aiming for Australia or some shit.

"It's not far from here," Castiel assured him.

Slowly, thinking that he was agreeing to something he'd regret _immensely_ later, Dean nodded. "Sure. It's a deal."

Castiel nodded twice. "Then, I will hold up my end and tell you why I'm here. However, it may be difficult to believe at first."

With an inelegant snort, Dean leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and tucking his chin on top of his fist. "Trust me, Cas, humans know so little about angels that whatever you say will sound completely legit. Are you even allowed to lie?"

The question softened Castiel's stony expression again. "It's more that lying does not generally occur to us. We are allowed to, though."

"Huh," Dean said. Several more questions popped into his head, but he remembered that he was probably on a time sensitive mission and bit them all back for later. _If there_ is _a later_ , his doomsayer brain supplied. He wanted to kick himself. "Anyway, just assume I'll believe everything, and let's hear it. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

It only took about two minutes before Dean thoroughly regretted hearing any of it. He leaned further and further back in his seat while Castiel explained his very serious, very dangerous, very illegal reason for being on Earth. "So," Dean said after a long, pregnant silence, "you're telling me that the angels are wanting to go to war, so you just like... voluntarily fell from Heaven to come out here and warn us about it?"

"Yes," Castiel answered seriously.

"Damn, Cas," Dean said, though he couldn't help being pretty impressed with the sacrifice the angel had made. "Aren't you going to get into trouble for doing that? Aren't you going against God's will, or something?"

Castiel grimaced, but his sharp blue eyes remained resolute. "Yes. That's why I need your help. I need you to take me to a safe place to stay as quickly and as quietly as possible."

"And you know of one?"

Castiel gave him a look that Dean interpreted to mean he was about to severely dislike the answer. "Your home."

 _Of course. Should have seen that coming from a mile away._ He held up his hands in a stopping motion. "Whoa, hey. Look, I know I promised and everything, but _my_ house? How do you even _know_ about it? It's totally warded from detection, and Sam and I aren't exactly the religious types, so how'd we even get on your angel radar? We don't do anything like praying."

Castiel squinted at him, ignoring the admission. "I studied suitable safe places all over the world while I was planning my escape. I landed closest to yours. I was able to observe the wards and sigils. I must say, Dean, you and your brother are extremely adept at them."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean said, "yeah, I mean, we've both got some natural talent at supernatural stuff. It's why we do what we do."

Castiel looked like he wanted to ask more, and Dean was fully expecting a battering of invasive questions, but the angel surprised him by not asking any of them. The curiosity showed on his face clear as day, however it appeared that he at least had some level of social propriety and tact. "I see," was what he settled on saying. "Will you please allow me to take refuge with you?"

Carefully, Dean considered all the options. Castiel had admitted that he was a fugitive angel. Clearly his people would be after him if he stayed in plain sight. The hospital had enough of its own wards and protections to keep anything off his scent for a short time, but it was a stop-gap and not a solution. Plus, being an angel, there were surely tons of monsters who'd _love_ to meet the guy in a dark alley somewhere. The thought alone made Dean shudder. Taking Castiel in, though? Sure, the bunker was the safest place in the world. They had it locked down tight. But it couldn't hide _anything_ forever. At the very least, hunters and nosy angels would eventually run out of places to look and zero in on a particularly well-warded home with great interest. "How long?" he asked.

"Not long," Castiel assured him. "My brothers and sisters will initiate their plan within the month. If I haven't been able to stop them by then..." he trailed off.

"... then no walls anywhere will save anyone," Dean finished for him.

Castiel nodded.

Dean regarded the angel silently again. Closely. He was a damn good EMT, which meant that he could tell when people were withholding important information for fear of the outcome. He saw it every day with people who were too embarrassed to admit what had led them to needing emergency medical attention, or if they were scared they'd be arrested or deported. And this Castiel? He was hiding something, and it was big. So, Dean did what he would have done with anyone else, and attempted to get more information in a roundabout way. Of course, he took extra caution with Castiel because he'd already proven himself to be extremely difficult and uncommunicative when he so chose. "Why did you land here, anyway? Couldn't it have been anywhere in the world?"

A strange flicker passed over Castiel's face. Dean stored the tell for later. Lawrence, or at least Kansas, was important. "Transporting from Heaven to Earth without using a Gate is... imprecise at best. I didn't know exactly where I would land," he hedged. 

There was more to it, Dean was sure, but he didn't press. "Are Sam and I really the safest bet to shack up with?"

"For the time being." Full honesty there, at least.

Puffing out a huge, resigned breath, Dean slumped forward in the chair. "Okay, Cas. We'll let you stay with us." Castiel beamed and Dean felt the warmth all the way to his toes despite his misgivings. He waved his hand slightly, and the angel's expression dimmed slightly. "The rub is, there's no way to get you out of this hospital without being noticed. Especially not from this area. It's all VIP. Triple the security, double the cameras."

Castiel's elation fell. "If I could use my grace to transport myself, I would. Unfortunately I am unable to here." He rolled his shoulder in discomfort while he spoke. His broken wing, right. It might be invisible now, but it still had to hurt. Dean gave him a sympathetic look. Then he had an idea.

"Is Sam still your attending doctor?"

Castiel pursed his lips. "Yes. I disallowed anyone else from treating me."

"Tactical maneuver since you wanted to bunk with us?"

His smile slightly guilty, Castiel said, "he's also the best doctor in this hospital. Despite knowing nothing about an angel's True Form anatomy, he very skillfully braced my wing and correctly administered tolerable levels of pain reduction."

The praise swelled a wave of pride inside of Dean. He'd always been proud of his little brother. Praise from an angel was a whole other level. "You should tell him that. He'd probably cry." He laughed a little and Castiel smiled. "Back to the topic, though, with Sam as your doctor we might have a chance. Top level in every building on campus is a spell casting room. It's not warded from magic or stuffed with security cameras from every angle because it'd mess with EMF. I know a pretty neat transport spell we could use. If Sam can get you there, we can get you out."

The angel regarded him doubtfully. "How will Sam get me there without arousing suspicion?"

Dean rolled his eyes like that was the most obvious question in the world. "Pre-planning, man," he said enthusiastically. "Nobody here knows jack about angels, right?" Castiel nodded. "Then it's perfect! You just have to tell Sam when he comes to check up on you on his rounds tomorrow that you need to cast a healing spell, or something. Anything that sounds remotely angel-y and uses magic will work. Sam will have to escort you as the attending doctor to make sure that nothing happens to you, but you can make up some excuse to not have anyone else like the cops or nurses there. That you need privacy, or whatever. That's pretty normal anyway, since spells require a lot of concentration. Sam'll take you to the top floor, cast the spell, and Bob's your uncle!" He grinned confidently.

Castiel looked quite the opposite. "I don't have any uncles."

"It's an expression, Cas, you're missing the point," Dean answered dryly.

Mollified by that, Castiel then asked, "you want me to lie?"

"Yes," Dean said expressively. "You're gonna have to if you want out of here without being noticed."

Frowning, Castiel argued, "It will cause trouble for Sam."

"Psh," Dean scoffed. "It'll be fine. He'll just make something up about how you were playing them to get out of there and escaped back to Heaven. If you're warded enough in the bunker, which you will be, that'll keep the law off your back as well."

Castiel regarded Dean and his pleased expression thoughtfully. "You have a lot of experience in this sort of thing?"

Dean let the comment roll off him. Mostly because it was true. "I'll admit to a wayward youth," he grinned. "Think you can play your part?"

"I have to," Castiel said simply.

Dean stood up. "Awesome. I'll go home and let Sammy in on all of this. You'll be safe here until tomorrow night, won't you?"

Tilting his head, Castiel gazed back towards the window. "I think so," he said. "I would sense another angel if they were near. I am not in immediate danger."

"Good." Dean reached out and squeezed Castiel's uninjured shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

xXx

"You're totally insane," Sam spat, angrily slapping a fresh coat of bloodpaint over the demon wards near the front door. "We can't _kidnap_ an angel!"

On the other side of the room, Dean painted his sigils much more carefully. Mostly to avoid having to address his brother directly. He took a second to knuckle his eyes, which were starting to sting because of the potent blood magic in the paint. "Yes, we can, and I think we kinda have to," he answered. "Cas is really serious about the Earth coming to an end. He thinks if he has a little time and protection he can stop it."

"Jesus," Sam muttered. Then realized what he said. Then winced. "It's putting a target on our backs, Dean."

"Then paint your wards better," Dean shot back. Nothing Sam was saying was anything he hadn't thought of himself. It annoyed him that his brother thought he was putting them both in danger without having thought long and hard about it first. Okay, so maybe he hadn't thought _long_ about it, but Castiel was a freaking _angel_. He could hold his own. Plus, Sam and Dean were more equipped to handle supernatural problems than pretty much anyone else. Even the vast majority of the best doctors and first responders didn't have the "gifts" like they did. Sure, there were some psychics, mind readers, and what have you, but they were all super specialized in their talents. Sam and Dean boasted a much broader array. And more widely useful. He'd take his chances. Then again, it was a moot point because, "if we _don't_ do this for him, then the world ends, so what does it matter whether we had a guest in the bunker for a month or so?"

"Fair point," Sam conceded, but he still looked upset about it. "I could lose my job," he reminded Dean. "Lose my license."

"Again," Dean said testily, "won't matter if the world ends. The plan's solid. You'll get written up and reviewed, at most. You can handle it. You could sweet-talk anyone. The review board will look into your big, sad eyes and totally take pity."

"Fuck off," Sam returned, sounding more amused than angry now. "Are you sure this is on the up and up? Not trying to second guess an angel here, but you've been pretty low on details."

"Cas can it explain it all better, believe me. I only got the overview, but he ain't lying about the severity. That angel is running scared. He said he'd answer any questions we had and tell us anything we needed to know when we got him out."

They painted in silence for several minutes until they finished. Dean wiped his brush off and closed his can carefully.

"So, you're in, right?" Dean asked, finally meeting his brother's eyes.

Sam sighed and dropped his brush into a pan to be washed later. Dean wasn't normally this adamant. Or scared. Clearly they needed to help Castiel and find out what was actually going on. "I'm in. Find the ingredients for the spell and I'll set it up tomorrow night."

"You're the best, Sammy."

"I'm gonna remember you said that," he warned.

"I hope you do," Dean tossed over his shoulder with a wink, escaping the room to get some fresher air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the flu something awful right now, so please forgive me if updates and answering of comments slows for a few days until I'm better. I've been trying to write, but my sickness just ain't having it for the time being.


	4. Chapter 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean plan Castiel's great hospital escape.

When push came to shove, Sam Winchester could call himself an excellent liar. Not as smooth or fast-thinking with them as Dean, but definitely passable when laying one on thick to anyone untrained to spot a liar. That worked well enough when facing off against the nurses and other doctors in the VIP wing when he arrived to begin his rounds, but made his palms sweat when he saw Victor at his post outside of Castiel's room. If any of this went sideways, there'd be hell to pay. 

Sam got along with nearly everyone he interacted with at the hospital, but no fewer than ten other doctors and nurses had expressed their displeasure at Sam's appointment as the lead of Castiel's treatment team. He couldn't _really_ blame them since treating an angel could probably make anyone's academic career _and_ turn them into medical community legends in no time. It meant that now, though, everyone was putting him under a microscope for the slightest slip up to have him booted back to the ER. Sam missed the ER. The rich and famous patients here, with the exception of Castiel, were boring as hell. He had to drink coffee nonstop all shift just to keep himself awake. When Sam Winchester got bored, he tended to fall asleep. 

That was now a well-established fact around the wing, so today, Sam used it to its full advantage. He kept his head down on his rounds to prevent himself from giving away his nervousness by mumbling more and only giving one hundred percent of his attention and care to the patients themselves. No one questioned him for a second. Which meant that they were practically ignoring him when he refilled his travel mug for the third time and completed his rounds at Castiel's room.

Even Victor wasn't immune to his attitude. He gave Sam a disgruntled look as the doctor approached the room. "You're making me tired just looking at you," he grumped.

Sam couldn't help a smile as he saluted with his coffee mug. "I'm sure it doesn't help you've been sitting in front of that door for hours, either."

"It's mostly you," Victor said with an answering smile. "Your brother had a good conversation with our friend yesterday, though Singer says he didn't get anything important. Maybe he'll be more willing to be a good patient now."

Shrugging, Sam said, "he was always a good patient. He'll just be an easier one now." Then he knocked on the door and entered, shutting it firmly behind him. "Good morning, Castiel," he said.

The angel turned his attention from the TV where he'd been rapidly flipping channels with a wide-eyed sort of wonder. "Good morning, Dr. Winchester," he said politely.

With a small wave, Sam said, "call me Sam, please." Then he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling? Anything I should know about?"

"I am almost healed," Castiel answered. 

"That's good." He scribbled some notes in his chart and then put it to the side on the end table. It was impossible to hide his agitation. He thought about his medical license. His love of emergency medicine. Possible jail time. Never being able to do the job he loves ever again. It might have been bad to say, but he sure hoped that the world really _was_ on the verge of ending, because otherwise, his whole life would be fucked for a good long time. He cleared his throat. "So... Dean had some really interesting things to say yesterday about his talk with you."

Castiel shifted against the pillow. At least he had the decency to look a bit regretful of the whole situation. "I don't want to get anyone into trouble."

He said it with such sincerity, that Sam couldn't help softening. "Yeah, I know. Dean seemed to think that you honestly have the best intentions. I can't say I'm thrilled to put my whole career on the line, but whatever Dean told you had him spooked and also convinced that it would be worth it." He shrugged. "And I trust my brother, so I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt."

Castiel's smile was pure relief and gratitude. "I will do everything in my power to keep you and your brother safe. I can promise you that, Sam."

Sam didn't answer immediately. He studied the angel for a moment and then decided that he understood why Dean had trusted him. He hadn't understood before. Dean was a nice guy and fair judge of character, but the last thing that Sam would have labeled him as would be "trusting." In fact, for years Sam had maintained that one of Dean's greatest characters _flaws_ was that he didn't trust anybody. So it was nothing short of shocking when Dean had come home saying that some far-fetched story from a mysterious angel was enough to get him to jump to help as soon as possible. He was right, though. There was something about Castiel... he wasn't here to cause harm to humans. "Okay," he said finally. "Dean and I have a plan to get you out of here. You're gonna have to lie a little, though. Can you do that?"

Castiel nodded with such a determined look on his face that Sam nearly laughed. "I will do anything that you need of me," he said.

"Good, because this plan sort of depends on you so we don't get caught."

"What should I do?"

Sam explained it as quickly and concisely as he could. Castiel listened intently, and by the end of it, agreed with everything the doctor said. "Unfortunately, I have no spells that require a special space in which to perform them," he said regretfully.

"Doesn't matter," Sam assured him. "There are several laws here that make it illegal to cast most spells outside of an official licensed casting space. You can just tell them any spell and it'll be fine. All we need is a reason to get you into that room."

"What happens if you get into trouble?" He sounded genuinely concerned for Sam's well being. 

"How important is this mission you're on, Cas?" Sam asked instead of answering.

"It's life and death."

"Yeah, so when an angel says something like that, I think it's probably worth risking my job over. We're doing this. Don't worry about me or Dean. We're both on board with this."

"I don't want to involve anyone who I don't have to. Please believe that, Sam. I don't wish to put anyone in any danger. That's not why I'm here on Earth."

"That's why we're helping," Sam said. "All you need to do is tell the nurses that you have to cast some important spell. It doesn't even have to be real. Just angel-y. I'll call the nurses and make a note in the chart. If we can convince them, we'll have you out of here by tonight. Luckily you're a VIP, so you'll get some serious preferential treatment." When Castiel nodded, Sam pressed the nurse call button. It was answered less than a minute later. The private wing did have some perks.

"Dr. Winchester? Castiel? What can I do for you?"

Sam smiled as nicely as he could. "Castiel has asked me to make a request for the spell room upstairs."

Her returned smile dimmed just a little with concern. "May I ask why?"

"Yes," Castiel cut in. "I need to..." he glanced at Sam who gave him an encouraging grin. "Cast a spell."

She looked entirely shocked at being addressed directly by the angel. So much so that she stood gaping at him until Sam cleared his throat politely to get her attention. "Oh," she said, flushing bright red. "I... I understand. What spell do you need to cast?"

"A simple healing spell," Castiel answered. "Your people have been doing an exemplary job caring for me in the short term, but now I am strong enough to heal myself. Human medical science has its limitations for treating angels." His eyes flicked quickly to Sam, who winked at him with an almost imperceptible nod. Castiel stopped talking then.

The nurse appeared skeptical, but turned around to address Sam. "What's your opinion, Dr. Winchester?"

He tried his best for nonchalant as he pretended to consult the angel's chart for a moment. "It's true that we can't really do anything else for him except to make him comfortable while he heals. If his spell can expedite the process, I'd like to allow it. Of course, I need the head nurse to sign off with me on using the spell room." He tried not to let his triumph show when she caved.

"That makes sense. I'll put in the request. It'll have to be cleared with Agent Henricksen, though."

"Of course," Castiel said mildly. "It's not an emergency, but time _is_ of the essence." He fixed the nurse with his most stern, but kind expression, and that was the clincher. She practically tripped on herself taking the signed note from Sam and hustled to the nurse's station. Sam shook his head in amazement. "Was that adequate?"

Chuckling, Sam answered, "better than. I'm almost positive we'll have you out of here tonight."

"What about the FBI agent?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure that the door was properly closed. "I can deal with him," he assured the angel. "Victor is an acquaintance. He's helped Captain Singer out a lot over the years, and Bobby is an old family friend. He won't be suspicious, at least for a little while, so that should buy us plenty of time to get you where you need to go."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Don't thank me _yet_ ," he warned. They have to approve the spell casting first."

So saying, Victor knocked on the door and poked his head in. "Can I talk to you, Doc?"

With an encouraging look back at the angel, Sam stepped out of the room, closing the door again. "I know what you're gonna say," he started.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't," Victor answered. "Sam, I've known you to be the cautious one in the past, so I'm kind of surprised you're being stupid right now."

Sam allowed his best, most potent bitch face to manifest. "I'd have to disagree with you on the stupidity thing. Castiel wants to cast a healing spell. Low risk, high reward. I don't see a problem with it."

Victor rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's escaped your notice that he's a damn angel? He could cast some weird shit that we don't even know about and can't stop."

"I _do_ know that," Sam argued. "Look, Victor, I realize that everyone's nervous about Castiel being down here. But he's been harmless so far. I'm not saying we should give him the run of the place, but I can certainly tell the difference between a healing spell and something else, no matter who's casting it. Trust me. I'm not endangering us by putting in this request lightly. If he tries to do something weird, I've been trained to respond. He's not here to hurt anyone."

Victor braced his hands on his hips, and Sam knew that he was cracking. He felt awful lying to him since they _had_ built mutual trust over the years and it was likely going to be broken after this, but when Dean said "end of the world," Sam figured some burned bridges were inevitable. "All right, here's the deal," Victor finally said. "The angel can go ahead and cast his spell, but I won't let him be in that room by himself. If you're up to it, I want you there watching like a damn hawk. And I'll take guard just in case. Slightest thing happens that you don't like, you shout and we shut it down. If we can. Agreed?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally," Sam said, tempering his enthusiasm. "When do you want to request the room?"

"ASAP, man. The sooner we get this over with, the better I'll feel."

"Got it. I've sent the nurse off for the papers already."

"Let me know," Victor said, patting him on the shoulder.

Sam thanked him and went back into the room. He beamed nervously at Castiel as he shut the door. "Okay, we're all set. Victor is going to stay outside the room while we're in there, but we'll be left alone inside. As soon as we get the clearance, I'll get us up there. In the meantime, just rest if you need it. I need to go back to the ER for a while to do my rounds."

Castiel nodded and leaned back on the bed. "Thank you very much, Sam."

"Don't thank me yet."

xXx

Their plan fell into place right after dinner that night. Sam was exhausted, and casting a spell while on his ass wasn't the smartest thing to do, but transport spells weren't total brain busters when you were transferring someone else. It would mostly be up to Castiel to concentrate enough to make sure that he landed where he was supposed to. Dean had set up the spell room at the bunker to receive him, so that shouldn't be a problem. All Sam had to do was make sure they had everything measured in the right quantities. Tired math was truly a curse.

He took a quick trip down to his locker to grab his duffle with the spell components. The hospital's spell rooms were well-stocked, but no one would find it strange if he brought his own, either. 

Castiel was sitting up in his bed, feet dangling over the side when Sam arrived. "You ready?" He dug in the bag for a pair of his sweats to offer the angel, and Castiel took them gratefully. He changed while Sam went over the specifics again. "When it's all done, Dean'll be waiting for you at the bunker. He'll get you all set up there. We've already refreshed the wards, so you'll be completely out of sight for the time being."

"I appreciate all of this, Sam," Castiel said as he zipped up the dark blue hoodie. "I'm ready to go."

Sam unfolded a wheelchair from the corner of the room and rolled it over to the bed. "Have a seat," he said.

Castiel eyed the thing critically. "I can walk just fine."

"Hospital policy," Sam said apologetically. "Plus, I want us to draw as little attention as possible. Frankly, with you up and walking around, it doesn't look like you actually need a healing spell."

"Understood," Castiel answered, sinking down into the chair and doing his best to appear the invalid. Sam removed the IV bags from their hooks by the wall and affixed them to the ones on the back of the chair. When everything was situated, he opened the door to find Victor there, waiting. "Good evening, Agent Henricksen," he said tonelessly.

"Huh," Victor grunted suspiciously. "We all set?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Everything's in order. Let's get on it."

They trooped to the elevator banks and Victor took the liberty of scanning his guest badge. Sam carefully wheeled Castiel into the elevator and keyed in his security code to get them to the top floor. 

The spell rooms were completely different from the rest of the hospital. The halls were dimly lit. It didn't smell like antiseptic and disease. There was a slightly eye-watering burn from the strength of the sigils, and also hints of herbs and flowers from other spells cast that day. Sam led them to the last room at the end of the hall. It was the largest of them, but also the least likely to be problematic if something went wrong. They stopped and Sam punched in the door lock code.

"I'll be right out here," Victor said, warning clear in his tone. "If anything even _smells_ wrong, I'll shut this down."

"Got it," Sam said. "I'll keep a close eye on him," he promised as genuinely as he could manage.

Victor nodded and let Sam and Castiel pass into the room. Sam shut the door behind them and rapidly started unpacking the bag with the spell ingredients. Then he carefully removed the IV from the angel's arm and pushed the wheelchair off to the side. Castiel seemed familiar enough with the spell because he helped Sam measure and add the ingredients to the bowl in the center of the casting circle on the floor. They both knelt down together as Sam pulled a book of matches out of his pocket. He held them up. "We're gonna have to make this look realistic," he said.

Castiel gave him a regretful look. "I'd rather not harm you. But I can render you unconscious. You'll wake up in an hour."

"Sounds good," he answered. "Once we open the portal, you'll have ten seconds to get in and grab the spell bowl with the evidence before it closes. That's the best I can do with the restrictions here. Just focus on arriving in the bunker, and you should get there fine. Dean'll be waiting on the other side." He took his phone out of his back pocket and texted his brother. Not a minute later, Dean answered back to confirm that he was ready. Sam erased the messages just in case. "Okay, he's ready. You good?"

Castiel lit one of the matches. "I'm ready." He positioned himself outside of the spell circle and tossed the match into the bowl. A split second later, the ground rumbled with powerful magic. A blue glow exploded out from the ground and swept upwards. Sam couldn't look at it directly because the light was too bright, but if he squinted and looked sideways he could see the spell room in the bunker almost like a mirage inside the ragged outer glowing edges of the portal.

"See you soon," Sam said, putting his hand over the alarm next to the door. Castiel took two steps towards him and pressed a finger to his forehead. His fingers caught on the alarm and pulled the handle down as he slumped to the floor. He caught sight of Castiel stepping through the portal just as his eyes closed.

xXx

Castiel clearly hadn't used many transport portals in the past, because he didn't by any means pass through it easily. His left arm appeared in the bunker, gripping the hospital's spell bowl amidst the blinding blue glow. Dean shaded his eyes with his hand, reaching out with the other to grab the angel's wrist when he noticed Castiel struggling to get through.

Portals inherently didn't want to work. Most of the time they were used to see other places, but not travel to them physically. Splitting time and space was a sort of magic that even the most experienced witches and spellcasters avoided. It was dangerous, with the very real potential of being fatal. Sam wasn't the most accomplished spellcaster, but Dean was, so by him casting the opening on the other end to receive Castiel, he'd significantly improved the angel's chances of surviving the trip. "I got you," he grunted, taking Castiel's arm in both hands and pulling hard. His feet slipped on the concrete floor, dragging him closer to the portal. "Work with me, man! The portal's closing!"

He knew a moment's panic before Castiel shoved himself through harder, and Dean took a second to marvel at his obvious strength. Time seemed to crawl as Castiel's right leg appeared though the rapidly shrinking opening, and then his head, torso, left arm, and left leg. A long, screeching, sucking noise signalled the portal closing when Castiel popped free with a final desperate tug from Dean. They overbalanced and crashed to the floor, knocking over candles and spell bottles. "Ow, fuck," Dean muttered as his elbow cracked into the floor hard. Castiel's weight was nothing if not substantial on top of him, splayed out like a starfish. _Damn, he feels good,_ Dean's traitorous brain saw fit to inform him. All hard muscles and lean lines. _Exactly what you look for in a man._

_Stop it. This one's an angel._

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said in a strangled voice. "Are you okay?"

"You first," Dean chuckled, patting the angel's good shoulder to move him. "Did you make it in one piece?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, gingerly sitting back on his knees. He held out a hand which Dean took gratefully to sit up. "I didn't expect that spell to be so..."

Dean sneezed from the stinging residual magic. "Yeah, it's a pain in the ass. Also pretty illegal. How's Sam?"

Castiel got to his feet and brushed off his sweats that crackled with static from the portal. "He should be fine. I used my powers to put him to sleep as though I knocked him out. That should delay suspicion."

"Good," Dean answered, checking himself for injury as he stood up. He winced at he bent his abused elbow.

Before he could do anything else, Cas had grabbed his arm. "I injured you," he said worriedly.

"A little bruised, it's nothing." Dean attempted to shrug out of his grip, but Castiel held him soundly. "Seriously, I'm fine," he insisted.

"I can heal this." Castiel's grip lightened on him when he realized that Dean wasn't going to yank away. He met Dean's eyes, silently asking permission. Dean raised his eyebrows with a shrug. He suppressed a shiver when Castiel slid his fingers up his arm, skin on skin while he pushed the sleeve of Dean's dark red overshirt up past his elbow. Dean couldn't tell if the goosebumps left in the wake of the angel's touch was from the sudden cold on his bare skin or something else entirely. Castiel left one hand on his wrist. The other cupped his elbow in a feather-light touch. Dean couldn't take his eyes off of the angel's face, especially this close. But then he had to because a comforting warmth suddenly pooled in his elbow and arm, the pain dissipating immediately. Cas stroked over his elbow briefly, smiling with his eyes, and then released Dean. 

Dean's hand spasmed at the loss, and shook it out. "That's... damn, you'd make an awesome doctor."

Cas's smile widened, touching his lips now too. "My grace awards me some generous perks."

"Yeah, no kidding." He cast a glance around the room, satisfied that everything had gone according to plan. "Well, that's that. Pretty sure they'll question Sam and send him home while they open an investigation. When he's back, you can give us the whole story that you promised. Until then, let's get you settled. Can I give you the nickel tour?"

"I would enjoy that," Castiel answered, pleased.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and guided them up the stairs to the main room. Castiel looked duly impressed with their surroundings, though Dean supposed that was because he wasn't familiar enough with modern human dwellings to find living in an old fallout shelter odd. Still, Castiel peered with interest around the main room, the kitchen, living quarters, and storage rooms, though he lingered noticeably in the library. "You like to read?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Castiel answered distractedly, reaching out to run his fingers over the spines of several of the books. "This is a very impressive collection of lore and study. Do all humans have such things?"

"Not even close," Dean answered with pride. "The Winchester line goes back a long way and is loaded with supernaturalists. What we've collected here are hundreds of years of work passed down through several generations. The local medical and law libraries don't even have half the books we do. Lots of them were written and researched by my own family years ago."

"Would it be rude of me to ask to read some?"

Dean beamed. "Go ahead. Maybe you could fill in some of the gaps on angel lore while you're at it."

Castiel turned to him with a hopeful yet cautious look. "There are rules. I can't tell you everything, but I'm sure I can teach you more than you know at present."

"Good enough." He allowed Cas a few more minutes of browsing and grinned when the first book that the angel pulled from the shelf was one of Dean's high school art textbooks. 

The angel flipped it open to a random page and made a small exclamation of surprise. "This is a devil's trap."

"Yeah," Dean said, walking closer to peek over his shoulder. "Standard public school art class. Color theory, still life drawings, acrylic, oil, watercolor, bloodpaint paintings, and wards and sigil composition."

"Fascinating," Castiel said. "So, you learn about how to protect yourself from a very early age."

Dean shrugged. "Sure. We've gotta, you know? Humans might be more plentiful on this planet than any other being, but we're weaker. Sometimes I think our superior numbers are the only thing keeping us at the top of the food chain."

Castiel made a noncommittal sound, but zeroed in on the rest of the textbooks, seemingly memorizing the titles that he wished to peruse later.

When he was satisfied, Dean cleared his throat and said, "so, I can show you to your room. Do angels need to sleep?"

"Not usually, but here on Earth I will require rest," he admitted. "My grace does not automatically recover when I am cut off from Heaven."

"I see," Dean answered politely, though he didn't really understand at all. "What about food? We've got plenty here, but I can get you anything you like."

"I have no preferences," he said, following Dean back towards the dorms. "I don't have to eat, but I find the act quite pleasing. Though, the hospital food was not to my taste."

Dean barked a laugh. "Everyone in the world would agree with you. Hospital food is disgusting no matter where you are. If there's anything you want to try, let me know." They had stopped outside of the bathroom. "Anyway," Dean finished awkwardly, "feel free to wander around. The kitchen and library are yours to explore. Just... stay out of my and Sam's rooms unless you're invited in. It's polite and all." Castiel nodded like a child hearing the important house rules for the first time. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. I always feel gross after spell casting. Then... I dunno. We hang out until Sam gets back." Jesus, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so awkward.

"Of course, Dean. I think I'll go back to the library for the time being. Please, don't let me get in your way."

Dean waved him off thinking, _not a problem at all_. And for the next ten minutes showering, tried desperately not to think ridiculously impure thoughts about how the angel's hands had felt touching him with such care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty much over my sickness now, so y'all shouldn't have to wait any longer than normal for updates. :D


	5. Chapter 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas comes clean and then decides to make a really risky call.

"Dr. Winchester, I'm sure you're aware that this breach of protocol and security is very alarming," Pamela Barnes, Medical Director and psychic, told Sam in her most hideously professional tone. She rarely used it, preferring to talk to everyone in shades of candor and flirtations, though with the kind of audience that had shoved their way into her impressive office, Sam supposed he couldn't blame her for carrying herself like she _actually_ owned the place and had full control over her staff. She did, of course. She just rarely _acted_ like it.

"I do realize that," Sam replied, dripping sincerity.

Pamela leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I need you to go through exactly what happened once you entered the spell room and were out of sight of Agent Henricksen and the security cameras."

"Of course," Sam answered. It was good that he barely had to lie. He liked Pamela a lot. She was too flirty for his tastes, sure, but she was also amazing at her job and extremely fair and generous to the people who pulled their weight around the hospital. Plus, she was an efficient touch-psychic, so Sam walked a fine line with his stretching of the truth. He did his best, though, and nothing about the events leading up to the spell casting were false, anyway. All he needed to do was lie by omission about their conversation and again about the spell. "Everything seemed normal," he said at the end. "Castiel composed the spell under my supervision. When he attempted to cast it, he apologized and said he was going home. I realized then that it wasn't a real healing spell that he was casting. I couldn't stop him at that point, so I pulled the alarm. Castiel must have knocked me out afterwards, but I don't remember that part well. When I woke up, Victor was standing over me and Castiel was gone."

His greatest fear was that Pamela would think he was lying about something and demand to use her abilities on him. By law, she couldn't without his explicit permission since mind reading fell under the purview of "invasive procedures and interrogation tactics," but if he refused, it would be pretty damning evidence. So, he finished his story, going for a helpless and contrite look, and Pamela seemed to buy it hook, line, and sinker.

"One more question," she said. "How did he manage to fool you with his preparations? You're an adept spell caster yourself. Didn't you notice he had the wrong ingredients?"

"He didn't," Sam said. "I brought my own medical spell ingredient bag with me and everything he put together was for a healing spell. He must have just needed an unwarded room to use whatever angel powers he has to get out of there."

"Did you measure the ingredients yourself?" Pamela asked.

"No," Sam admitted. "I gave him the ingredients and he told me that he was going to supplement the spell with his grace to heal himself completely."

"What spell did he actually cast?"

Sam shifted to look slightly uncomfortable. "He _did _cast the healing spell, I think. Just to give himself the moment to be able to get himself out of there. He said something in, what I think, was Enochian, put me to sleep, and then he was gone."__

__"With the spell components?"_ _

__"Yes," Sam said. "Look, you checked my bag. You know I did everything by the book. We thought - I thought - angels could be trusted, seeing as they're holy beings. I guess I was wrong." He must have done an amazing self-blame face, because Pamela took pity on him._ _

__She turned to Victor with a sigh. "Anything to add, Agent Henricksen?"_ _

__"No," he said. "Everything Dr. Winchester said sounds exactly how it went down. He did everything he was supposed to do. When I heard the alarm, I went in and the angel was gone, the good doctor down for the count by the door. I woke him, called for backup, but Castiel was long gone."_ _

__Pamela rested her chin in her hand. "Well, shit," she said. "Look, I'm not blaming either of you here. We were dealing with a being we have an incredibly poor understanding of. This could have happened to anyone. Frankly, I'm more concerned with the bad press we're gonna get. However, we do have to conduct a full investigation of the incident. Sam, you're not in any trouble unless our investigation proves that you should be. If there's anything else, you need to tell me now."_ _

__Sam shook his head. "There's really not, Dr. Barnes. Castiel asked for the healing spell and I told him about the law as well as hospital policy. He seemed fine with it. Trustworthy. I mean, I know angels aren't exactly the warm and fuzzy Christmas tree ornaments we often make them out to be, but I didn't think they'd be so sneaky, either."_ _

__"We've got a manhunt going on," Victor added, "but I'm willing to bet we won't find him unless he wants to be found."_ _

__"If our investigation turns up anything, I'll be sure to let you know," Pamela said. "All right, that's all I need for now. Sam, you can go home for the day. The policy is a week of paid administrative leave while we're opening the inquiry."_ _

__Sam stood wearily, and this time it wasn't an act. He honestly felt like he'd been put through the ringer. "Thank you, Dr. Barnes." They shook hands and he turned to Victor. "Look, Agent Henricksen-"_ _

__Victor shook his hand soundly. "Forget it, kid. You did the best you could."_ _

__A deep-seated guilt settled in Sam, and he hoped against hope that Castiel had something good for them after all the trouble the Winchesters had gone through lying to their friends and employers. "Yeah," he said vaguely._ _

__"Go get some rest," Victor advised as they left the administrative offices. "Looks like you could use it."_ _

__"Thanks, Victor. See ya." Sam veered off for the parking garage before his guilt absolutely got the better of him and he admitted everything. In all honesty, his opinion was that the FBI agent could have been an incredible asset to them. Granted, Victor wasn't always the most forgiving of supernatural beings who broke the law, but he was loosening up over time. He had voted against an expansion of the laws overseeing supernatural citizen status several years ago. Even a decade ago they'd been far more restrictive. There used to be annual caps on how many beings could legally be granted work visas and citizenship, and fewer types of beings who could even qualify. Victor had seen the worst of them and humanity in the darker times when supernatural beings started to make themselves obviously known, so his vote hadn't been surprising. But even so, he'd grown much more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. But the lingering distrust was probably a good enough reason for them to leave him out of whatever this thing was with Castiel. For now._ _

__Twenty minutes later as Sam pulled off the main road towards the bunker, he had to wonder what he and Dean could do for the angel by themselves. He had the sneaking suspicion that they'd need more humans in their corner before long. Maybe even more supernatural beings. But for now, he'd settle for the real reason he'd just risked his life's work._ _

__Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. When he entered the bunker he found both Dean and Castiel sitting in the war room quietly. Castiel was reading a stack of textbooks with a determined expression, and Dean was watching _Game of Thrones_ on the laptop, feet kicked up on the table, and nursing a beer. "Hey, Sammy," he greeted loudly, raising a beer in salute._ _

__Castiel jumped to his feet. "Sam, it's good to see you. How did everything go?"_ _

__Sam smiled tiredly. "As well as can be expected. No one is blaming me for what happened, nor do they suspect anything yet, so that's good. They're opening a standard investigation at the hospital and I'm on leave for a week. Also, you'll probably have to stay inside the bunker, Castiel. Victor told me that the FBI is launching a manhunt, though they're not expecting to find you. They all believe you went back to Heaven."_ _

__"That's good news," Castiel smiled._ _

__Dean slipped his headphones off. "Probably the _only_ good news we're gonna hear for a while, am I right, Cas?"_ _

__The angel's expression darkened. "Perhaps, yes. I did promise to tell you everything I know about why I'm here. I will do so."_ _

__Sam dropped his bag by the table and went to the kitchen to grab himself a beer. Coffee might have been a better bet with how exhausted he felt, but beer would likely help him deal with the story better._ _

__Once they were seated, the brothers turned their eyes to Castiel. Dean said, "all right, Cas. Now's the time. What the hell's going on and why are you here on Earth in secret?"_ _

__Castiel leaned forward and folded his hands together on the table. He didn't meet their eyes directly, but he kept his back straight, words firm and sure. "I'm here because my brothers and sisters wish to begin the Apocalypse."_ _

__Sam was struck speechless. Dean glanced back and forth between them, until his eyes settled on the angel. "So, when you gave me the overview before and said something big was going on with the angels, you were kinda... understating the whole thing."_ _

__"I suppose so," Castiel answered regretfully._ _

__"So, why are you here?" Sam asked. "Are you like a forward scout or something?"_ _

__Castiel's head came up and the anger in his gaze made Sam sit back a little further. "No," he insisted fiercely. "I'm not. I'm here to try and prevent them from doing it. A few of the archangels, namely Zachariah and Raphael, believe that it's what our Father wishes. I disagree with them. At first, I tried to reason with them. God has not given us the orders to do this. No one has. I begged them to stay their hands, but they wouldn't listen. So, I went to my garrison and friends. But... angels aren't what you would call 'free thinkers'. We don't question our orders."_ _

__"Then why have you?" Dean demanded. "What makes you so special?"_ _

__Castiel spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I'm not sure. I wish I knew. It's just... when the word came down through the ranks it... felt wrong. The things that they were doing seemed strange. It felt like there was more to it than just following the word of God. I don't know how else to explain it."_ _

__Sam cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "What exactly felt wrong to you about it? I mean, as much as I'd hate to see the world destroyed, the Book of Revelation _does_ exist and it does speak about the Apocalypse."_ _

__"You think it's all a smokescreen," Dean said suddenly. Castiel's eyes flicked to him. "You think they're using the Word of God to cover for something else," he clarified._ _

__"They might be," Castiel agreed, giving the EMT a grateful look._ _

__"How?"_ _

__Castiel mulled the question over. "First of all, God has been absent from Heaven for centuries."_ _

__Sam let out a huff of surprise. "What, seriously? There's no God? Then... who have we all been praying to all this time? Who's telling the angels to come down to Earth when they have permission?"_ _

__"Not the point, Sammy," Dean said moodily._ _

__Castiel answered the question, anyway. "Some of the archangels have authority to dispatch angels as they see fit. And we all answer prayers and do the jobs for humanity that were assigned to us."_ _

__Sam looked pained, but Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine. Sam will deal with his crisis of faith later. Back to the subject, then. What are these archangels doing that ain't Apocalypse kosher?"_ _

__"I only have my suspicions," Castiel warned, "but I believe they're trying to falsify the Rapture."_ _

__That set both brothers back on their heels. Dean's mouth opened and then closed. Sam composed himself first. "How in the... I mean... um, wouldn't we have noticed hundreds of thousands of souls suddenly disappearing?"_ _

__"A billion," Castiel corrected calmly. "Accounting for population increases."_ _

__Dean laughed humorlessly. "Okay, fine, a billion. We would have fucking noticed that. How do you fake the fucking _Rapture_?"_ _

__Shaking his head, Castiel said, "the souls are not going at once. In fact, they're not being guided by the angels at all as they were supposed to have been. I believe that Zachariah and Raphael are taking the souls in small numbers and making it look like normal supernatural occurrences so that humans won't notice."_ _

__That made Sam perk right up. "How do you mean?"_ _

__Instead of answering, Castiel asked, "did you notice anything strange about the full moon the other night?"_ _

__"An inordinate amount of calls," Dean answered immediately._ _

__"Holy _shit_ ," Sam breathed._ _

__"Yes," Castiel said grimly. "Again, I have no proof, but I think that they are somehow allowing more monsters out of Purgatory to kill humans and take their souls to be stored. Once they have enough as foretold for the Rapture, they will be able to start the Apocalypse on their own terms, rather than God's."_ _

__"Well, that's pretty alarming," Dean muttered._ _

__"Worth risking my job over," Sam added faintly._ _

__"We need proof," Dean said, eyes unfocused as he tried desperately to comprehend the enormity of the situation. But his meager brain couldn't wrap around the the completely catastrophic consequences of what Castiel was telling them. It made him dizzy to even try. "We also need a plan. Something. What the fuck are we supposed to do? Jesus, Cas. This is... wow."_ _

__Sam planted his hand on Dean's shoulder to stop him. "Calm down," though it didn't ring entirely authentic because his voice sounded curiously close to cracking with panic, too. "Okay, Castiel. Let's just... go through this step by step."_ _

__"Of course," Castiel answered._ _

__"Right, okay," Sam said. "So, in Christian mythology the Rapture is supposed to be, like, the beginning of the end before the return of Jesus, right? The worthy souls leave Earth, and there's a huge war supposedly led by Lucifer and Michael, and then Apocalypse, and then Jesus comes and makes... what? Heaven on Earth?"_ _

__Castiel's nose scrunched up. "That's... very basic, but the points are accurate."_ _

__Dean crossed his ankle over his knee. "So, what's the big deal here?" Sam shot him a distinct _are you serious?_ stare, but the elder Winchester ploughed on. "I mean, sure it sucks that billions of people are gonna die and wait around until there's Heaven on Earth, but it'll happen, right? Cas, is Jesus really coming back?"_ _

__Silently, Castiel shrugged. "I can't answer that, unfortunately. No one, not even the angels, know of God's plan for Earth. Even if there is one, anymore. The whole truth is that He is absent and the angels are supposed to continue to fulfill the missions that they were given until told differently."_ _

__"Are you totally sure that your brothers aren't just doing what Dad told them to?"_ _

__"I honestly don't know," Castiel admitted with a strained, desperate voice. "All I can say is that it _feels_ wrong. The Bible is a fallible book, of course. It was the Word written by man. There are inaccuracies, but the spirit of it remains. Do you honestly think that God would have the worthy souls hunted and stored away in this manner while awaiting the second coming? It's not right. I _know_ it's not. And I know that if I had proof, I could convince my brothers and sisters join me and stop this before it becomes too big to. And you two-" he stopped abruptly, looking from Sam to Dean like a deer in headlights. _ _

__The brothers leaned across the table towards the angel in tandem. Dean's eyes hardened. "I think you ought to finish that sentence, Cas," the threat clear in his tone._ _

__Castiel studied the wood grains on the polished table. "You two..." he began, swallowing hard. "You two are important to the whole thing."_ _

__Sam's eyebrows couldn't have raised any higher on his forehead. "What?"_ _

__Castiel softened towards pity. "I don't know, but I've... heard Zachariah and Raphael talk about you. They said that you're important. I don't know why. Not yet. But I _will_ find out."_ _

__"Son of a bitch," Dean swore. "That's why you're here? You lied, man. You said you didn't know where you'd land! But you planned this the whole damn time!" He slapped his palm down on the table. Sam flinched, but Castiel remained serene._ _

__"I thought it best for you to hear the whole truth all together. If I'd told you that you and your brother were integral somehow to the destruction of the world, what would you have done?"_ _

__Dean scoffed, but didn't bother denying the truth. "I would have called your feathery ass insane."_ _

__"Cas," Sam said sharply. Both men turned their attention to him. "Can we actually trust you? I mean, if you want us to help you figure this shit out, we have to be able to. This is... damn, this is a _lot_ to take in. You can't lie to us about any of it anymore. You can't withhold because you don't think you'll get your way. We barely know you, man. And I'm not even sure I buy all this 'being an integral part of the end of the world,' thing, but all that aside, there are some things we can work on. Like finding you some actual proof to take back home. That's doable. But, look. We've put our necks on the line for you already."_ _

__At least the angel had the decency to look properly contrite. "I know. I am very sorry."_ _

__"Let's just all agree to stop keeping secrets, okay? This is a _big_ deal. The angels have been pretty good at trying to end the human race before, so it's not exactly surprising that they're giving it their best effort again. I get that. But if Dean and I really _are_ important, then we're in danger, too. And I think that you holding back is going to make it worse. We need all the knowledge from you that we can get to even know where to begin figuring it all out. Otherwise we're sunk before we start."_ _

__Leave it to Sam to be completely pragmatic in the face of a batshit insane story. Dean shook his head. "Gotta admit, I'm still stuck on the whole end of the world thing. Like, what even is the first step?"_ _

__Castiel stood. "Protecting the both of you from being detected by angels. Any angels. They know I'm on Earth, and therefore probably know that I'm looking for you."_ _

__Dean groaned. "Fuck this, man. I don't know how to hide us from _angels_!"_ _

__"I can help," Castiel said evenly. "There is a spell that can shield you from their gaze."_ _

__"Great! How do we do it?" Sam asked._ _

__"I have to brand you with it," Castiel said thoughtfully, "so that even if you leave the bunker, you'll still be safe."_ _

__"Brand us?" Dean asked pointedly._ _

__"Yes. On your ribs."_ _

__Dean vaulted out of his chair and held up his hands in a stopping motion. "The fuck? Sorry, Cas, I'm not letting you gut me to carve on my ribs."_ _

__"I won't have to," Castiel answered, confused. "I'll only need to touch you."_ _

__Dean rolled his eyes and Sam rolled them right back at him. "Dean," he said. "Trust, remember? Why don't we be the ones to start." He stepped up to Castiel, holding out his arms wide. "Go ahead," he said with an encouraging smile._ _

__There was no responding smile, but Castiel took the offering and pressed his hand against Sam's chest. Sam tried his best to hold still, but _fuck, it hurt_! He suppressed crying out, though a small groan escaped him as he squeezed his eyes shut. The white-hot pain on his ribs lasted only a moment and then it was gone. Castiel removed his hand and Sam took several short, stuttering breaths before he could draw in a deeper one. "Ow," he said._ _

__"You're protected now," Castiel answered. "Dean?"_ _

__Skeptically, Dean shuffled forward, forcing himself to uncross his arms. He tried to psych himself up, planting his feet and sucking in a fortifying breath, but the intense pain flashed and then was gone. He stumbled a little on locked knees. "Fuck," he breathed, rubbing his chest. "That it?"_ _

__"Yes," Castiel answered. "No angel can find you now unless you tell them where you are."_ _

__"Now what?" Sam asked. "Where do we start?"_ _

__Dean kept rubbing his chest distractedly as he replaced their empty beers with new ones. To his surprise, Castiel accepted one as well. "Maybe with the stolen souls thing? Is there a way for us to find out whether that's legit?"_ _

__"Maybe," Castiel said contemplatively. He lapsed into silence and paced from one side of the room to the other. The brothers watched him, sipping their beers._ _

__The silence went on so long that Dean got antsy. With a frustrated sigh he said, "hey, care to fill us in, Cas?"_ _

__"Crowley," Castiel answered, almost as an afterthought._ _

__"Who?" Sam asked._ _

__Castiel stopped and turned to them, looking like he was seeing the brothers for the first time. "He's the king of Hell."_ _

__Dean laughed and Sam coughed as his sip of beer went down the wrong pipe. Then they realized that he was serious. Clearing his throat, Sam said carefully, "uh... king of Hell? Like the devil?"_ _

__"No," Castiel shook his head. "That's Lucifer. Crowley rules over Hell now since Lucifer has been locked away. It was a fairly bloody power struggle."_ _

__"What does he have to do with this?" Dean demanded._ _

__"Nothing directly, I'm sure," Castiel said. "However, he's a demon. If he, or any other demon is killed directly, they go to Purgatory or Hell, the same as other monsters. He may have useful information about it, if that's really where Zachariah and Raphael are keeping the souls they're collecting."_ _

__Sam hmm'd. "So, can any supernatural being get into Purgatory?"_ _

__Castiel shook his head. "No. To my knowledge nothing gets into Purgatory unless it dies. And nothing should be able to get out. It's locked to everyone else."_ _

__"Then how are your brothers getting souls in there?" Dean asked._ _

__"I don't know," Castiel said, clearly frustrated. "But they are. It's the only place to put them where they can't be detected and rescued by my brothers and sisters. Crowley is our best chance at getting answers. The angels have refused to speak with me, and Crowley is the highest ranking demon. I hate to even suggest it, but if there's any chance..." he trailed off. "I don't know of any other options."_ _

__Dean stepped to him and patted his arm. "No worries, we get it," he assured him in his most comforting tone. "With the world at stake, we have to make some big plays. Plus, summoning a demon ain't exactly rocket science. Even the biggest dude in the mix'll be stopped by a devil's trap. We can keep him contained for a few questions. What do you think, Sam?"_ _

__"I think that's nuts. Why don't we try asking Meg first?"_ _

__"And blow our cover? Hell, no," Dean insisted. "Plus, she's cut off from Hell. That's the deal with her visa. If she has any contact with them at all, she'll be sent back there, and you know her story. She won't risk being deported. Plus, if she _was_ communing with her kind, I bet my left nut she wouldn't tell us a damn thing to get herself in trouble."_ _

__"Ah, yeah, I guess. It was worth suggesting," Sam countered. "I mean, it sounds like we're risking the worst case scenario here. Maybe we can summon a lesser demon first."_ _

__Dean looked towards Castiel. The angel's face was a mask of neutrality. But something about the way he held himself... he was still scared. And clearly thinking that they didn't have time to waste. Content with that silent answer, he turned his eyes back to his brother. "Time's of the essence here, Sammy. I say we should go big or go home. It's the fate of the world we're talking about. I'll do some extra research, but you know I'm good at summoning and setting traps. It'll be fine."_ _

__Sam's inner struggle showed all over his face. A handful of emotions, all wishing to protest the suggestion, flitted across his face until it settled on resignation. "You're probably right, but I don't have to like it," he muttered._ _

__"Fair enough," Dean agreed. Then with his confident, lopsided smile firmly back in place, Dean swung around to Castiel. "Okay, then, Cas. Let's make a deal with the devil."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN! Now begins a run of bad decisions for our boys! *jazz hands*


	6. Chapter 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Crowley!

"Is your brother doing something strange?" Castiel asked Sam several hours later while the trio sat scattered around the war room. Dean was currently at the table surrounded by thick, old tomes. Sam brought them all coffee from the adjoining kitchen, and Castiel was perched on a leather chair near the bookshelves. 

"No?" Sam answered, handing the angel a mug. "Why do you ask?"

Castiel was quiet for another minute, watching Sam and then Dean. "You keep staring at him."

Chuckling, Sam took a seat in the plush armchair next to the angel. "It's just that I've never seen him read so many books all at once when they weren't comics."

"Your brother is extremely intelligent," Castiel frowned.

"Totally," Sam agreed enthusiastically. "I know he is. He's just not into book learning too much. He's more of a hands-on kind of guy. He always says that studying gives him a headache. This is rare."

"I can fucking hear you," Dean drawled, pausing to rub his temples. "And it _is_ giving me a headache. But since I'm the one cursed to do this damn summoning, I need to make sure everything's in place with no room for Crowley to get loose without our permission." He slammed his current book closed and then pushed it away before grabbing another one.

"That's very wise," Castiel said levelly. "However, I told you I could do it."

"How long's it been since you last drew a devil's trap or summoned a demon?" Dean squinted through the pain in his head at the angel.

Castiel's frown deepened to a scowl. "It's been a few centuries, though I _am_ an angel. We don't forget spells."

"Still not taking chances," Dean returned. "Stop pouting and help me with my research if you need something to do. You too, Sam. The more we _all_ know, the better."

"Good call," Sam said cheerfully at his brother's irritation. Dean had called Sam a nerd for reading too much one too many times to receive any of his sympathy about this part. He helped anyway, though, sitting down at the table across from his brother and pulling a heavy book off of the top of the stack. He flipped through it aimlessly until he hit on a section about advanced warding against demons. He knew all about it, of course, but it certainly couldn't hurt to make sure that there wouldn't be any missing pieces when they cast the spell for real. Crowley may have been a demon, but it stood to reason that the king of Hell was probably significantly more powerful than a normal demon, such as Meg. And though he could tell that Castiel was eager to move on with it, he seemed to accept the necessity of the research agreeably.

A pot of coffee later, Dean closed the last book on his list. "That's all I need from these," he said. "We've got all the ingredients to cast the summoning already here, so I think once we get some rest, we'll be ready to go."

Sam agreed, rubbing his eyes profusely. "Good. Can I go to bed now?"

"Go for it, you big baby." Though Dean also yawned so hard that he teared up. "Won't be far behind you." Sam trooped off with a final good night. Of course, Dean had said he was going to sleep, but he still scribbled notes on a sheet of paper while Castiel hovered near him. "You're freaking me out lurking like that."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, sitting down across from him. "Dean. I never did thank you for everything that you've done for me so far."

Dean's tiny, exhausted smile, crinkled the corner of his eyes. "It's what I do, Cas. Save lives."

"It's admirable. I wasn't under the impression that most humans were so generous."

"I'd laugh at something like that coming from an angel, but you're right. They're not," Dean agreed pointedly. "That whole 'do unto others' thing isn't really popular these days."

"You seem angry about that," Castiel observed.

"I kinda am," Dean admitted, making his last note with a hard enough jab to dot an 'I' that the paper tore. "I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself, and Castiel took it literally, giving him a once over that left Dean slightly more warm under the collar than before. "My whole job is saving people. Supernatural beings and also humans. And I see exactly how shitty everyone is to each other all day and night. I get paid to clean up the mess of shittiness. Sure, there are some things that are just accidents. People get injured or sick and I help them. But for every kid that falls off a swing, there's ten more people who got bit by rampaging vampires or shot by their crazy exes. I fucking hate it."

Castiel's brows knit together. Dean couldn't help finding it amazingly attractive as much as it was becoming and increasingly familiar look. "Saving any life is a noble deed, Dean. The life may not seem worth saving, but the act of saving it is selfless and wonderful."

Dean felt the back of his neck heat up and he rubbed at it. "Yeah, man, maybe, but it's like..." He thumped back in his chair. The front legs popped up and then clacked back down. "The best thing in the world would be if less people like me were needed. Too many people don't care about the value of a life anymore. I'd be totally happy splinting broken bones or rescuing heart attack victims. The rest? Sometimes I wonder why I bother."

Having been looking down at the polished wood of the table, picking at a splinter with his fingernail, he didn't notice how close Castiel had gotten to him until he was swept up in a sea of blue as the angel came up beside him and gripped his shoulder, putting himself between the table and Dean. "I think you do it because it matters. It's not about _them_. It's about _you_. You're trying to leave the world better than you found it. Even I cannot say that I've done anything to equal that. I admire you, Dean. Greatly."

It was impossible to be under Castiel's direct scrutiny for long. Dean felt a certain longing for it the same as he felt the desire to pull away. "It's not that glamorous," he muttered after a pause, feeling his ears heating up as much as his neck. "I'm just good at my job."

"You are," Castiel smiled. 

Dean got to his feet quickly, almost tipping the chair over. Fuck, his heart was racing and they were standing _so close together_. Castiel was a lot to take in. So unfair. The sooner they got this shit figured out, the sooner the angel could go on his way and Dean could stop being a fucking idiot about having a minor crush on a celestial being. He felt like he'd sinned enough for one lifetime just in the past few days. "Anyway," he said, cringing internally at how breathless he sounded, "I'm gonna turn in now. We'll finish the preparations for the spell in the morning."

"Of course," Castiel said. "Rest well, Dean."

He waved over his shoulder, starting down the hall and then paused. Turned. "What do you do all night since you don't sleep?"

"I normally just sit quietly and meditate," Castiel answered as though confused at how obvious the question was.

"Well, _that's_ boring as shit," Dean quipped. "You can watch TV or something. Get to know the more entertaining side of humanity. We have Netflix and cable. You don't have to do nothing." 

"I don't wish to disturb you or your brother. How should I spend my time while you're sleeping?"

Dean beckoned Castiel down the hall towards the bedrooms. "Well, first of all, we can make you more comfortable. Sam networked everything with the WiFi, so you can watch TV in your room if you want." He opened the door to Castiel's bedroom and gestured him inside. "I'll show you how to work the remote."

Castiel sat on the edge of the bed, dutifully allowing Dean to show him how to turn everything on and navigate the menus. He felt both surprised and pleased at Dean's generosity. He fully recognized that he'd been nothing but a bad luck charm for the brothers since he'd crashed to Earth, and was probably going to do more harm than help to them by the end of it. He wasn't used to guilt, but it rushed through him in spades at that very moment when Dean passed the remote to him with an encouraging smile. Sam and Dean were so attentive to his comfort and possible needs. He had supposed that it was because they were natural caretakers. Why else would they have chosen their current professions? And Dean's soul... he truly tried his best never to pry, but the warmth sought him blindly, unknowingly. It had been the beacon that had led him to Kansas in the first place, but this close... Dean's beauty both inside and out astonished him. Part of Castiel selfishly hoarded the feeling while he could. "Thank you, Dean," he said finally, remembering belatedly not to stare too much. "You've been very kind to me."

"No reason not to," Dean said gruffly, turning his eyes down for a moment.

Castiel stared harder. Was he embarrassed? He was. The angel smiled.

"Anyway," Dean said after a moment of scuffing his foot on the tile floor. "I need to get to bed now. Long day tomorrow." He retreated to the door and as he did, Castiel sensed it.

It was small, and definitely something that he would have missed had he not been singularly focused on the EMT. Dean radiated a certain desire towards him. _Oh, Dean,_ Castiel thought worriedly, _please don't think so much of me._ "Rest well," he said softly.

"'Night, Cas," Dean said over his shoulder, closing the door behind him. 

Willing himself not to give it further thought, Castiel turned his attention to the Netflix menu. He settled on a police procedural show about brothers who hunted rogue supernatural beings. It was violent and dark, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to turn it off. Gradually he lost track of time as one episode blended into another. Footsteps shuffling down the hall signaled the morning. He knew it was Dean who passed by his door first, followed several minutes later by Sam. Castiel gave them a respectable amount of time to complete their morning routine before turning off the TV and joining them in the war room. Dean was just finishing a bowl of cereal, Sam pouring a cup of coffee as they exchanged their greetings.

"Well, today's the day," Dean said brightly as he downed a cup of coffee. "You sure you're sure about this, Cas?"

"Yes," the angel answered soundly. "I'm ready to assist with the summoning whenever you're ready."

"We've got everything in the spell room," Sam said. "Might as well get it done with."

After finishing their breakfast, the trio made their way to the basement. Sam and Castiel measured the ingredients while Dean refreshed the paint on the summoning circle and the devil's trap overhead. They placed the candles and bowl inside the circle and stepped out of it. Dean opened the book of matches and passed it to his brother. "It's all you, Sammy," he said grimly. Dean chanted the brief spell, and Sam tossed the match in. It puffed and then... a big, fat load of nothing.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered.

"Appropriate turn of phrase," a dry voice said between one blink and the next.

Castiel pulled his shoulders up straight, staring down the demon with a severe, impressively angelic expression. 

"You Crowley?" Dean demanded.

"Depends who's asking," the demon answered smoothly, tucking his hands in his suit pockets. He glanced around with mild interest. "Aren't you breaking several dozen laws? Intriguing, I must admit."

"We need information and you're the one who will provide it to us," Castiel said, voice steely.

The demon's eyes slowly slid from Dean to Sam to Castiel expressionlessly until he reached the angel. They widened slightly. "Fuck," he muttered. "Angels? Of all the bloody luck. What makes you think I'd answer you lot anything?"

"Because we can exorcise you," Sam deadpanned.

"Sure you will, peaches," Crowley said. "Fairly certain your feathery friend will do the honors regardless."

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw muscle twitching. Dean stared at him openly. "Don't give me a reason to, and I won't," Castiel said. "In exchange for the information we require, we'll release you back to Hell."

"Charmed, I'm sure."

Castiel took a step forward. Dean was so focused on him that he was plenty able to put his hand out to stop him. "Just answer our damn questions, okay? What do you know about Purgatory?"

Crowley shifted his foot and pulled one hand out of his pocket to study his manicured nails. "A great deal, for what it's worth. Then again, it's closed off for a reason."

Sam coughed uneasily. "Do you know anything about angels storing souls there?"

Crowley's interest was genuinely piqued this time. Dean narrowed his eyes. But the flash of interest was gone as soon as it appeared and smoothly, Crowley said, "I might. But if you hadn't noticed, you have an angel in your midst. Why not ask him?" His smile twisted up with dark humor.

"We're not here to answer your questions," Dean cut in. "Tell us what you know before you stop being worth my time."

"Glady," Crowley said, suspiciously agreeable. "Your winged pals are bad for business. Even before they upset the damn balance. They're storing souls there, sure."

"Then I was correct," Castiel said. "They're trying to start the Rapture."

Sam turned to Crowley. "So, is there room for a billion people in Purgatory?"

"Of course, but that won't be necessary," Crowley answered, his wicked grin growing more and more as he witnessed the trio's increasing unease.

"What do you mean by that?" Castiel asked.

"Your brothers aren't doing the hard work to collect a billion godforsaken souls by _themselves_. Why would they? They're taking the pick of the litter to send to Purgatory."

Dean could feel Castiel's patience deteriorating, and shifted in front of him. Not like he could do much to stop an angel who really wanted to fight a demon. "Clarify," he said. "Quickly. This angel here? He's pretty twitchy and hasn't been to Earth very much to learn our ways, so he's not too discerning about smiting."

Crowley held up his hands in a stopping motion, though he looked anything but threatened. "Happy to, no need to whip out the big gun just yet." His leer set Dean's teeth on edge, and he felt Castiel bump into him harder against his shoulder in agitation. "Your friends from on high aren't sending souls to Purgatory to simply wait around. They're turning them."

"How?" Sam asked.

"By leaving them there, obviously," Crowley rolled his eyes. "What do you think happens to souls trapped in Purgatory? Especially ones who aren't supposed to be there in the first place?"

"Shit," Dean muttered. He opened his mouth to answer, but Castiel beat him to it.

"That's impossible!" he yelled, voice rising to a potentially dangerous level. "My brothers may be short-sighted, but they would never damn souls to become monsters or demons!"

"Why not?" Crowley challenged, taking a step towards the edge of the devil's trap. And, boy, Dean sure did have to give him credit for his balls. "Because Daddy Dearest didn't say so? I knew you featherheads were dumb and robotic, but this is beyond the pale. Your brethren are working against you _right under your damn noses_ , and you're too stupid to see it, and too unquestioning to stop it."

Dean bodily had to stop Castiel from crossing the paint line, and was once again treated to his inhuman strength, though his solid weight did seem to ground the angel enough to keep him from smiting the demon right then and there. Sam's gaze moved between Dean and Cas, and Crowley rapidly. He chose the pragmatic approach. "Yeah, well, demons lie all the time."

"I wouldn't bother about this," Crowley pointed out. "I'm _not_ lying when I said those bloody angels are bad for business. What am I going to do when they release their monsters out of Purgatory to gobble up a billion perfectly damnable souls? My numbers will take a _huge_ hit."

The logic stilled Castiel and Dean released him with a grunted sigh. "How are they even going to get the souls out of there in the first place?" Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged. "That I can't tell you. If I knew, I'd have moved in ages ago. Prime real estate. It's Hell adjacent."

"They're getting out _somehow_ ," Sam insisted. "At least in small numbers. We're already seeing a rise in monster attacks."

"Best of luck with that," Crowley said dryly. "I've got nothing else for the Scooby gang, so much appreciated if you'd let me get back to it?"

Castiel looked stormy enough to smite still, so Dean stepped up. "A deal's a deal," he said more for Castiel's benefit than Crowley's.

"A man of your word. I'll remember that."

Dean flicked out his enchanted pocket knife to scrape at the trap. "Don't bother. We're warded, so no funny business. Just get lost."

"Fine," Crowley said in a bored tone. "But if you summon me again, I'll kill you."

"Sure you will, peaches," Dean snarled back, echoing Crowley's sentiment, scraping away the last of the line to break the seal, and Crowley was gone in a noxious puff of sulfur.

Sam ran both of his hands through his shaggy hair. "That was... something. All bad news."

"Yeah," Dean agreed vaguely. "Cas?"

The angel appeared to be ignoring them both, though Dean had a good enough read on him that he could tell Castiel was practically vibrating with anger. "That can't be right," he gritted out in quiet rage.

"It's okay, Cas," Sam said placatingly. "Demons tend to lie. That's nothing new. We can figure it out together."

"That's not it!" Castiel snapped, whirling around to face the brothers, who both took tactical steps backwards. "He was telling the truth! I believe Crowley! My brothers... Raphael and Zachariah... how could they _do_ something like this? It's sinful! Horrific! Twisting souls to become monsters to drag other innocents into Purgatory. It's..." his voice cracked smally enough that it was barely noticeable. "It's worse than I could ever have imagined." His entire body steeled itself, muscles tensing as he drew himself up to his full height. "I won't let this stand. I can't."

"Cas, man," Dean said apprehensive. "What are you gonna do? We need a plan, okay? Let's just think this out. Sam and I will help you."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said, emotionless. "This is too much. I need to do _something_. Now. I'll return later." He disappeared as quickly as Crowley had in a gust of displaced air.

"What the hell, man!" Dean cried to the room at large. "Dammit, Cas!"

Sam, ever the calm bomb defuser said, "it's fine, Dean."

"How is it fine?" Dean returned. "It's one thing to break him out of the hospital, but that angel is _pissed_ , and if he does something stupid then he could probably blow up the moon or some shit!"

"True," Sam agreed. "But there's nothing we can do about him right now. Let's focus on what we've got. I think... hearing all this, I think we should tell Bobby. See what he has to say."

Dean snorted with derision. "What, so he can come and slap cuffs on us for breaking the law and then _lying_ about it? No way. Something else." He snapped his fingers several times in a _give it to me_ motion. Sam leveled him with best put-out face.

"Bobby," he said stubbornly. "He'll understand if we tell him everything. Remember, he was a hunter back in the day with Dad. If anyone's gonna get it, he will. I don't think he'll put us in jail. At least not right away."

Dean dropped his head into his hands with a groan. "Fuck. _Fuck_! Fine. Call Bobby. The sooner we get to kissing his ass, the sooner we can find Cas and figure out a better plan than whatever he has now, which I'm pretty damn sure is a whole lot of kill first, ask questions later."

"No kidding," Sam said. "I'll talk to him. I don't piss him off as fast as you."

"I'll... go buy more beer," Dean said, defeated. "Maybe some liquor. If you can't calm the beast, give me fair warning so I can tell Benny I won't be on my shift tomorrow and ask him to post bail."

Chuckling darkly, Sam led the way back upstairs. "You got it."

xXx

_"Let me get this straight,"_ Bobby said, voice tinny over the speakerphone, but no less deadly threatening. _"You two idjits hijacked an angel out of a secure ward, lied about it, listened to his sob story, believed it, summoned a demon - by the way breaking about five laws to do it - believed_ it's _sob story, pissed off the angel, and let him flap off to God know's where. Am I_ missing _anything, Sam? Dean?"_

The brothers exchanged glances. Neither wanted to say a single word. Dean held up his hands, fist cradled in his palm. With a determined look, Sam mirrored him. Dean lost to paper.

"No, that's about it," Dean said, hoarse.

_"Do you know how many_ laws _you've broken? You both should be in_ jail _! Sam, you should lose your license! And_ Dean _. Dean, I sort of expect crazy shit from you, but this is too much! What the hell do you expect me to do with everything you told me?"_

Dean shot a panicked look to Sam, who raised his arms helplessly. "Bobby, this shit is serious. Cas, ain't lying about it. He was genuinely ready to knock some heads together."

_"And for all_ you _know, he_ is _! Give me something to work with, or I'll be an accessory to your foolishness, and that ain't gonna fly."_

Sam sighed. "Okay, Bobby. I'm sorry. _We're_ sorry. Really."

_"You should have trusted me! Dammit, boys, I coulda helped you before!"_

"How?!" Dean finally exploded. "Tell me how, Bobby, because you already told us about how many laws we broke! Even if we'd come to you, you wouldn't have been able to help us at all! You would have told Victor, who would have taken it back to Washington, and then it'd be tied up in politics and the whole fucking world would be ending in the process!"

_"Calm the hell down,"_ Bobby snapped. _"This ain't the end of the world. Not yet."_ A long silence settled over them, once which neither Dean nor Sam dared to break. After a time, Bobby said, _"okay, here's how it's gonna go. I'll shake some trees around here, and you two are to sit tight and stop breaking the damn law. Keep your heads down. Sam, you stay quiet about what happened, and stay your leave. Dean, you show up to work on time and keep your nose cleaner than it's ever been. And if that angel shows up again, for the love of God, don't let him escape again. You got it?"_

"Yes," the brothers muttered as one.

_"Good. Can't you go a month without pissing me off?"_ he finished.

"No," they said together again.

_"I'm hanging up now. Christalmighty."_

The call cut off on Bobby's grumbling, and Sam reached over to turn his cell phone off quickly, flinching back like it was hot lava. "That went well," he said.

Dean snorted. "Right? Hey, you sure you'll be fine sticking around here just waiting for Cas to show back up?"

He shrugged. "I've got nothing else to do for now. Seriously, though. Do what Bobby says. He won't steer us wrong, and I'm sort of sure he won't toss us in jail. Yet."

Groaning, Dean said, "right. Cas might not take the news so well. He wanted to keep this between us."

"Then he shouldn't have poofed out of here without another word. One angel and two humans might sound like the start of a great comedy, or a really weird porno, but it won't work for saving the world for real."

Dean scratched the back of his neck. "Point taken. Guess we just do what we need to. Great. Fuck. I'm gonna go wash my uniforms for tomorrow."

"And act like the world's not ending?"

"And act like the world's not ending."

Cas didn't show up again for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an unapologetic Crowley girl!


	7. Chapter 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Benny so much that I almost forgot this fic was Destiel. :D
> 
>  _ **CHAPTER WARNINGS:**_  
>  Blood, gore, graphic violence

Dean pulled on his uniform the next morning feeling completely wrung out. He hadn't slept well, Castiel hadn't returned, Sam had grilled him the rest of the day about staying safe on his shift, and Bobby had called again briefly to say he had some hush-hush plan in the works. No other information. Needless to say, the tendrils of dread that clawed around Dean's heart with every passing hour prevented him from getting a good night's sleep. He could barely even look at himself in the mirror while shaving, grimacing at the dark shadows under his eyes. He nicked himself three times with the razor. The last time he'd looked like this, he'd been on a hell of a bender. And that, at least, had given him the benefit of awesome morning after stories.

Cursing as the small cuts on his chin, he angrily tore off small pieces of toilet paper from the roll and pressed them to the spots. _Looking good, Winchester_ , he thought, depressed. Instead of flipping himself off in the mirror like a moody child, he bent his head and loaded up his toothbrush, scrubbing vigorously and then rinsing his mouth out. He braced his hands on the edges of the sink, shoulders slumped. "Fuck," he whispered.

Then he swung around and almost swallowed his tongue. "Cas," he groaned.

"Good morning, Dean."

"Get outta my ass."

"I'm not-"

"-personal space," he clarified. "This bathroom is only big enough for one."

The angel took three steps backwards, just enough for Dean to squeeze out around him.

"Where are you going?" Castiel asked.

Dean plucked at his blue uniform shirt, then poked the embroidered shield on it. "Work. Where else?"

Castiel's eyes darkened. "You can't do that."

He pulled off the small pieces of toilet paper moodily. "Kinda have to, man. What's it to you, anyway? You ran the hell off yesterday without another word once you got what you wanted. Sam and I didn't know what to do; what to think. We had to call Bobby for help because _you_ painted a big fucking target on our backs and then threw us under the bus."

Castiel's eyebrows shot up. "That's not... Dean, I..." he trailed off and his jaw clicked shut. A bevy of fleeting emotions crossed his face, finally settled to hard determination. "You shouldn't have done that. Involving more humans is dangerous."

"And you leaving us to our own devices isn't? Sam and I aren't here to be used and dumped like a one night stand, Cas. That's the deal. We agreed to help, so you either let us in, or get with the fact that we're gonna do our thing alone, and that means using all of our human resources. Whether you like it or not. You can't tell us all about the end of the world, tell us that we're important somehow to it, and then decide that we need to just sit back and wait for you to give us the battle plan. This is my planet, okay? If I can do _anything_ to help it, I will."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "But this isn't a human's fight."

"The hell it isn't!" Dean snapped. "Have you missed something here? Because you and Crowley _both_ said that angels are taking a _billion_ human souls one way or another. Now, I don't know about you, but that sounds to me like a really fucking human fight! The angels might be to blame, but the humans are the ones in the crosshairs. I'm not sitting this one out."

"You're not strong enough," Castiel persisted.

"Maybe not by myself, but I won't be alone in this. You can help or get out of the way. No matter what, though, you can't bust in here whenever you please and tell me and Sam and everyone else what to do. You're not part of the team. You're doing everything to show you're not."

Castiel's face scrunched, and Dean elected to ignore how his words obviously stung the angel. He was too pissed off with the whole situation. Pissed and scared. So he sat on the bed, yanked on his boots, and tied them tightly. "I know that you're angry," Castiel started, "but you can't go to your work. It will put you in too much danger. Direct contact with monsters at this stage could be highly detrimental."

Dean snorted. "I get that, and I don't care. I can't put my life on hold, so I'm going. Don't worry about it. I've been fine so far, and my partner has my back."

"I'm going with you," Castiel said suddenly.

Dean jumped to his feet. "No, you're not," he said shortly. "I'm already in enough trouble. If you're seen around, they'll try to take you in."

"If you insist on risking yourself to such a degree, I must be there to protect you. Besides, your police cannot 'take me in' unless I let them."

Before Dean could really shoot off, Sam knocked on the door. "Dean? I heard arguing. Is Cas back?"

"Yeah," Dean called, not moving his gaze from the angel. "Come on in and join the party." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Sam poked his head in. "Everything okay?"

Dean swung around. "This asshole has decided that he suddenly wants to be my guardian angel or some shit. Thinks I shouldn't be going to work."

"Oh," Sam said mildly. "Well, that's stupid."

"It's not," Castiel bit out.

"Yeah, it is," Sam returned. "Look, it's true that Dean and I don't have the safest jobs dealing with hurt and angry supernatural beings on a daily basis, but what better place is there to be right now? Crowley said that souls are being turned and released to drag other people down. So, if we're there to help them? Save them? It's perfect. We can stop this. Or at the very least slow down Zachariah and Raphael's plan long enough to find something to do about it."

Dean nodded vigorously. "Exactly. And we can definitely do a lot of good if you're right about ground zero being here in Kansas. So, yeah." He clapped his hands in finality. "I'm going to work."

"I'm going with you," Castiel said again. 

"That's a great idea!" Sam enthused.

"Wrong answer," Dean whined. "No, Sam. I already told Castiel no. Low profile, remember?"

"I'm sure Cas is capable of keeping a low profile," Sam said. 

Dean gestured to Castiel. "Have you seen this guy? What's he gonna do that won't put me in potentially more danger, aside from getting himself arrested as a fugitive?"

"Uh, how about saving you from _more_ danger?" Sam suggested sarcastically. "He's an angel, Dean. He can take care of himself." He turned to Castiel. "Plus, that's what I was coming to talk to you about. Bobby called. Said he's talked to some people and got Cas off the hook."

"How in the hell did he do that?"

"Apparently through someone Vic knows from the local FBI field office. Agent named Charlie Bradbury? She's tracks supernatural occurrence clusters in the region and she says she's been reporting weird numbers for a few months now. It's put up enough red flags that they were sort of relieved to hear what we'd told Bobby. They're ready to believe us. For the moment."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I'm not too sure yet, but Bobby mentioned something about a team and a mobile unit. No idea. He'll get back to us later on that."

Castiel nodded. "That means there's no reason for me not to join you."

"It's a good idea," Sam admitted. "Dean? Please."

He didn't have to be happy about it, but Dean knew a losing battle when he saw one. "Jesus," he muttered. "Fine. _Fine_. If it'll get you two grannies off my back. Let's get moving or I'll be late."

xXx

Benny was already taking stock in the ambulance when Dean arrived, Castiel in tow. The vampire turned when he heard the tromp of Dean's heavy boots. "'Morning, Dean-o. And... uh... Dean-o's friend."

Moodily, Dean angled his thumb over his shoulder. "Benny, Cas. Cas, Benny. You met before briefly when he crash-landed. He's gotta come with us today on our rounds. Don't worry, he's staying in back."

"That's sorta unorthodox," Benny said suspiciously. "Something going on that I should know about?"

"No," Castiel said.

Benny arched an eyebrow. "We cleared for a ridealong?"

"Yes," the surly angel replied. "Dean, I must speak with you now. In private." He didn't wait for an answer, simply grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him towards the far side of the equipment bay. 

Dean shook him off angrily. "Now what? I said you could come, but if you keep getting in the way, I'll ditch you on the side of the road somewhere." Castiel ignored him and kept pulling him until they were crammed into a supply closet almost on top of each other. Dean irritably batted a mop out of his way. "Seriously?"

"Dean, that man is a vampire," Castiel hissed.

"Yeah, no shit," Dean snorted.

"He's a monster. Why are you working with him? And why is he allowed to wander free on your planet to feed off of and turn other humans? He belongs in Purgatory!"

Dean held up his hands. "First of all, he helped save your damn life before when you were injured, in case you forgot about _that_. Second, he's got a work visa, so he's allowed to be here if he follows the rules. He hasn't fed off another living human in something like fifty years. You read all about this in those textbooks you devoured. He's an amazing EMT, and an even better friend. I'd trust him with my life. I have plenty of times and he's always come through."

The radio on Dean's shoulders sounded with an alarm. The dispatcher said, _"Police requesting medical assistance for a 1092 on Walnut and Crabapple. Two miles north of mile marker ten."_

Benny answered it. _"Dispatch, this is Ambo fifteen. Lafitte and Winchester responding."_

"We can talk about this later," Dean growled. "Just... stay out of the way and don't get into it with Benny." He slammed open the door and jogged back across the equipment bay.

"What is a 1092?" Castiel asked.

"Possible vampire attack," he said swiftly. "If the cops are there it probably means they were trying to clear out a nest. Those streets are out in farm country. Vamps like to hole up since there aren't always neighbors for miles around."

The radio popped again. _"Acknowledged, EMS. Be advised of unsecured location."_

Before Castiel asked, Dean filled him in. "Means it's still going down. We'll have to hold back until it's safe to enter."

"Dean... I truly don't wish to judge unjustly, but the nature of monsters is to protect their own no matter how much they try to deny themselves. How can Benny be trusted around other vampires? Or injured humans?"

Dean whipped around so fast that Castiel almost smashed into him, if not for Dean's palm out to shove against the angel's chest. "Cas," he said, voice threateningly low, "I'm only gonna say this once. You don't know Benny. You don't know me. Him and me have a history and we're solid. _You're_ the odd man out, who no one trusts. You don't get to pass judgment. So keep your damn mouth shut and hop in back."

He didn't wait for a response, circling the rig and climbing into the passenger side. He slammed the door harder than necessary.

"What was all _that_ about?" Benny asked as he lit up the rig and burned rubber out of the garage. "You and Cas okay?"

Dean shook his head. He took a deep, hopefully-calming breath. Tried to turn his energy and focus to the call. "He's just sort of an ass. But I set him right."

"Get the feelin' you're trying to say you were defending my honor. I'm flattered, Dean. Truly. It means so much."

Dean paused typing notes into the work tablet to smack Benny in the thigh with it. "You lost the chance to flirt years ago, so put your foot down and keep your eyes on the road. Shouldn't be more than ten miles up."

They spotted the fire putting up plumes of smoke well off the road before they saw the police cars blocking a private drive with no other houses or turn offs for miles. "Looks bad," Benny commented.

"I hope they called more of us out here," Dean said grimly, pointing out the police blockade off of a long dirt road. He unbuckled himself and got ready to jump out the second Benny parked them. Jo Harvelle was waving them over as soon as they'd opened the back of the rig and grabbed their equipment. "Just stay out of the way," Dean warned Castiel as he ran after them. "What do we have, Jo?" he called.

"Couple'a bites here and a bigger mess towards the farm. You'll see." She gestured towards two officers, holding their necks and looking fairly nasty.

"How long since their exposure?" Benny asked, resting his bag down on the trunk of one of the cruisers and gingerly pulling one of the cop's hands away to examine the wound. He replaced the dirty towel the cop had been using to stem the flow with gauze pads and opened his pack to dig out the anti-venom. 

"Less than an hour," Jo said. 

"Secondary exposure?" Dean asked sharply. "There's a lot of extra blood here."

"Not that I know of," Jo said uncertainly. She kept glancing back over her shoulder to the burning house, the firefighters struggling to get it under control.

Dean kept pressure on the wound he was treating and patted the uniform's cheek to focus him. "Hey, buddy, stay with me here. I need to know if you or your partner there got any vampire blood in your mouth. Did you drink any? Get splattered?"

"No," the guy answered weakly. 

"Okay." Benny tossed Dean some anti venom and he caught it easily out of the air. He popped the cap with his thumb and pressed it to the cop's lips. "Drink this. Tastes like shit, but it'll keep you from turning." He turned his head towards Jo once satisfied the guy had drank it all. "We need to get these guys out of here fast. They're still losing a lot of blood. Did you call for backup?"

The wailing sirens of another ambulance answered that question. Dean instructed his patient to keep pressure on his own wound and then jumped to his feet. Benny was right behind him, stripping off his gloves.

"I'll keep an eye on these two," Jo said. "Be careful back there. We think we got all the bloodsuckers, but there might still be a straggler or two."

"Got it."

"Dean..."

"Not _now_ , Cas. For real. This is the job. Get with it or get outta here." He shouldered his kit and took off down the dirt road beside Benny. Gradually they got close enough heard shouting, popping that might have been gunfire, and the high pressure hoses taking care of the flames.

"EMS!" Someone shouted over the din.

Jesus, it looked like a war zone. Sad, because the two story farm house looked like it had been pretty cozy, painted sky blue, tucked into the treeline of several acres of farmland. However, today, several decapitated bodies had fallen in the yard and near the smoldering stairs. It took precious time it didn't seem like they had for Dean to find the person in charge. He trotted over to the sheriff, who was finishing up yelling over her radio. "You in charge?"

The short-haired brunette turned from the mayhem to address the trio. "Yeah. Sheriff Jody Mills. Nothing too crazy left, I don't think. Few burns, smoke inhalation, minor injuries. My guys are finishing up around back where the other vamps tried to run. If you hang on a sec-"

All hell broke loose right then. Three police officers thundered around the side of the burning house, unarmed and pursued by four vampires.

"Shit!" Jody swore, yanking her machete out of its holster and running as fast as she could to meet them. She wasn't quick enough to stop one of the larger vampires from jumping on the back of the closest officer and literally tearing her throat out with his teeth. Dean sprung forward before he knew what he was doing. He dropped his kit to the dirt and charged the same vampire, swiping up a discarded machete on his way forward. With a smooth thrust, he arced the blade through the air and the vampire's head went rolling, the body dropping to the grass at the end of the dirt path with a dull thud.

He could barely hear over the fire and hoses, but he was positive that Castiel and Benny were yelling at him. He saw the angel a second later, with some sort of silver blade in hand. Dean watched in morbid fascination as Castiel brought the pointed silver blade into the vampire's neck, then twisted it viciously to finish the job. Jody had already taken out the third by the time Benny joined them. 

Dean realized too late that Benny had been shouting a warning at him. The last vampire crashed into Dean's back like a freight train, almost knocking him down. It was enough for him to stumble and allow the powerful undead monster to pin his arms tightly. He felt hot breath on his neck and it made him sick to realize that he was about to become a statistic. _Cas_.

With a wild expression and a snarl, Benny lunged forward and tore into Dean's captor as Dean struggled and managed only to swing them to face the farm house. Benny grappled for a moment, ripping the vampire away, and giving Dean the time to drop to his knees and roll to the side. He tossed his blade up to his partner, who snatched it fluidly and made short work of the last vampire with a powerful strike.

Time sped up again. Dean was halfway to his feet, about to laugh and make a tension-breaking joke about needing a vacation, when he was cut short by a splatter of blood right across his face.

Benny fell to his knees. Dark blood bloomed across his uniform shirt. Dean's eyes widened.

He caught his partner when the man pitched forward. "Hey. Hey, hey, hey," he chanted in a gently panicked, false calm tone. "Easy there, buddy." He shifted Benny onto his back on the grass. Dimly, he could hear Jody shouting at one of the cops, but he was too busy pressing his hand firmly over the gunshot wound and trying to breathe through the roaring in his ears. "Tell me what we got," he said, emotionless.

It took Benny two tries to stutter, "dead man's blood."

"In the bullet? Aw, come on Benny, that's nothing! Not enough to take you down. You'll heal in a second enough for me to move you. We'll get you a transfusion at the hospital."

Benny's hand slapped over Dean's arm in an inhumanly strong grip. "I skipped breakfast."

"Right," Dean said dully. "Right. Okay, right. Fine, right. Right." Chanting it over and over while his free hand dug into the kit for the tablet. "You'll need a field transfusion, then."

"I won't do it, Dean," Benny insisted. His voice was thickening.

"You'll take what I give you," Dean answered. "Breakfast is the fucking most important meal of the day. Everybody knows that."

A shadow fell over them as Castiel knelt beside them. "What are you talking about?"

Balancing the tablet on Benny's abdomen, Dean retained pressure on the wound while jabbing quickly and angrily at the touch screen. "He's gonna feed on me. It's the only way he'll live long enough to make it to the hospital."

Both Benny and Castiel spat, "no!"

"I swear to God, Benny, I swear to _God_ ," Dean gritted through clenched teeth. "Sheriff Mills!" he yelled, not taking his eyes off of his partner. With one last stern word to her deputy, Jody turned and trotted over.

"I'm suspending him and probably taking his badge for that," she assured them. Then her gaze fell on Benny. "Damn," she said. "That's looking mighty bad. Why aren't you healing? I saw your teeth a minute ago, so I know what you are."

Brushing off the question, Dean said, "I need your witness signature for a consent form." He shoved the tablet at her then moved back to finish packing Benny's wound as he kept talking. "Dean Winchester, supernatural blood donor number one-five-three-one-three-six-two-seven-dash alpha. I hereby consent to emergency blood donation of my own free will to Benny Lafitte; vampire; injured and unfed within the last twenty-four hours. Dean Winchester, also paramedic, Lawrence Memorial, shield number one-three-zero-two, has concluded that emergency field transfusion is medically necessary, to be confirmed by witness."

Jody nodded along and filled in the information with the stylus as Dean spoke, ensured the recording was still on, and said, "witness is Sheriff Jody Mills, Lawrence Police, badge number six-five-eight-four-four-six. I concur with EMS assessment, confirmed donator number, and hereby sign off as witness to the emergency field transfusion." She completed the form, signed it, and shut off the recording. "Go for it."

Benny still had Dean's arm in a death grip, though his strength had slackened enough that Dean could easily move it now.

"I don't consent to treatment," Benny wheezed.

"You have to," Dean demanded. He bent forward until their noses were almost touching, speaking only loud enough for the two of them. "I'm not gonna let you die here, Benny. I need you in this with me. The world is ending, I don't know how to stop it, everything's going to shit, I'm pissed off, and I really, _really_ fucking need you to do this for me." He uncapped a disposable scalpel and sliced his wrist. "Please, partner. Consent."

Benny latched onto his wrist with the tenacity of a newborn baby and Dean finally let out a huge breath. He saw Castiel take a step towards him out of the corner of his eye, but waved him down. The feeding hurt like a bitch, but he held still through it, counting off the seconds in his head. At sixty, he said, "that's a minute."

It took a tense second of him still holding his hand out to stop Castiel, Jody unlatching her blade holster, but Benny had stopped drinking. He held on for several more heartbeats, but then shoved Dean's arm away hard. " _Merci_ , brother," he coughed. "But don't ever make me do that again."

"Then don't skip breakfast ever again," Dean said, grabbing a large adhesive bandage to place over the bite. "You good?"

"Fuck off."

"Sheriff?"

"We're good."

He almost asked Castiel, but was struck a little dumb by the angel's expression as he watched Jody help drag Benny to his feet, then help him over to stretch out in the back of one of the patrol cars. Cas looked contemplative. Almost contrite. Dean cleaned his hands with antimicrobial wipes and said, "Cas?"

The angel snapped out of his reverie. "I can help the other humans," he said in a stony voice. Dean watched him go closer to the fire where a few men were sitting in a small group nursing minor injuries behind the shelter of the fire engine. One by one, Castiel touched each of them on their foreheads. Dean couldn't tell from his angle, but he assumed that the angel was healing them. So. Not a total asshole, after all.

"He's still an asshole," Benny quipped weakly.

"Sucking my blood don't make you a mind reader," Dean returned.

"Nah, but I know that look. Dean." His serious voice drew Dean's full attention. He didn't like how Benny sounded. "Don't get yourself into trouble, brother."

"That's all I know how to do," Dean muttered darkly, watching the angel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love Benny, okay guys?


	8. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby lets the boys in on his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you EVERYONE for expressing your concerns politely and making me aware of your worries after this chapter! I am SO SORRY that I failed to ease minds properly and had so many of you worried that this would become a Denny story. I honestly had NO idea anyone was thinking that and assumed everyone thought it was just a past thing, as I did. Which was pretty stupid to assume because none of you know what I do about this story yet. These characters are deeply flawed, and while I don't hesitate to use those flaws, I will endeavor to be more sensitive to how they're received by you, the reader. And please, if there's something you want to say or ask, do NOT hesitate. You will never get backlash from me, and I ask that anyone who partakes in the comment threads, please show the same respect to other readers. Again, I deeply apologize for my carelessness in tagging, and hope that you'll stick around to see the Turning Point next chapter!

By mid-afternoon, Dean wasn't at all surprised that the day had turned into one of the longest drags he could remember. He hadn't even been on another call, instead getting buried in an avalanche of paperwork after being released from the scene some four hours later. At least Benny had pulled through. He'd been admitted to the supernatural ward overnight for observation, leaving Dean sans partner, but it didn't end up mattering because he was called in to Pamela Barnes' office after returning to the hospital to talk her through the call. He was so fried that he didn't even bother to change his shirt before reporting to the administration wing.

She let out a low whistle when he trudged into her office. "Tough call, Winchester," she said sympathetically, holding out a pack of sterile wet wipes. "You've got some... y'know... all over you. You got checked out, right?"

"Yeah," Dean half-laughed humorlessly. He collapsed into the chair in front of her glass desk and wiped exhaustedly at his dirty face and bloodied arms.

"Got your report," she said. "Seems like the Winchester brothers keep stepping in it big time."

"No kidding," Dean said wryly. "Something wrong with the report?"

"No," she said kindly. "But you know we have to do an eval after calls like that and the field treatments you employed. We don't wanna get sued because you shot off to kill vampires. Nice job, by the way, but I recommend leaving that to the police next time."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Dean answered.

She typed rapidly on her computer for a minute while Dean finished cleaning himself up, and said, "I've already spoken to Benny and gotten his signed statement. Now I just need you to walk me through the call in your own words."

He did, step by step. He was a bit embarrassed to admit that he'd drawn some blanks during the most active parts of it, but Pamela understood. She assured him Benny had remembered most of it well enough. Sheriff Mills had also sent along her statement, so the torture of an inquisition didn't last as long as Dean had expected.

And when they were concluded with business, Pamela had another surprise for him that he wasn't sure he wanted to hear. "Spoke to Captain Singer this morning."

He dropped his head into his hands. "He's already read me the riot act."

She grinned. "Of course he has. He called because he had a super crazy idea that he wanted you to be involved with."

"Fuck," Dean breathed.

She laughed. "Well, that really depends. You seem to enjoy throwing yourself into the fire, so this might be fun for you. Regardless, you've been loaned out at my discretion to the police. Bobby, specifically. Oh, and you can tell Sam he's back on the clock, on probation, and he'll with you."

"What the hell is this about?" Dean asked woodenly. 

"The stunt you pulled with the angel face, obviously," she said half-amused, half-annoyed. "Props for being sneaky about it and using your squeaky clean brother as a patsy to avoid detection longer. Listen, Bobby will give you the messier details later, but word's getting around about what Castiel's been saying. Far be it from me to doubt an angel, but it seems pretty... well, shitty. Captain Singer is putting together a response unit with us, the FBI, and Lawrence's finest to figure out what the hell is going on and stop it. Or slow it down. Whatever. _Your_ job is going to be getting Castiel on board and directing the mobile EMS response. From now on, your sole position for this hospital is going to be hunting down any occurrences that have to do with this Rapture business, and deal with them. Anything you can't handle on site comes here, and everything else is whatever Bobby tells you. He's your supervisor for the foreseeable future."

Dean thought that he knew what true dread felt like, but that was until Pamela had started talking about _this_ fucking crazy plan. It didn't even make any _sense_. "It sounds like you're leaving out a lot of shit that I need to know in order to understand this," he said.

"Yeah, I am," she agreed. "You, Sam, and Castiel need to report to Bobby once he's ready for you. He's setting up camp upstairs in one of the spell rooms in the VIP ward." She offered three badges over the table. Dean took them warily. They were plain with only their names printed on them. "Do not lose those," she warned, enunciating every word. "Only people on the response team have them. Once you swipe them at the front entrance, it'll send an alert to Bobby. At the elevators, those cards are an express trip to the top floor, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. They won't drop you off anywhere else. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, slipping them into his shirt pocket and snapping it shut. "Pamela... how bad is it?"

She bit her bottom lip. Gravely, she said, "from the intel they've already collected before Castiel even got here, Bobby thinks it's worse than what you were told."

"Fantastic," he said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. Look, you'd better get Castiel to come clean about everything. For your safety _and_ his. He might mean well, but he seems like the type to take on all the heavy lifting because he thinks he's better than us."

"You're right about him," Dean hated admitting. "I don't really trust him yet, so I'm glad we've got some serious guns on our side."

"I hope so. Good luck, Dean." She winked and he was finally able to smile slightly. That was her clear dismissal, so Dean heaved himself out of the chair and got the hell out of there as soon as possible. Benny wasn't able to have visitors until he was cleared by the doctors, and Dean had been released from the overnight part of his shift, so he had nothing else to do besides go home. Castiel had been mysteriously absent for the last several hours. He appeared again leaning against the passenger door of the Impala, waiting once Dean entered the parking garage.

"Are you here to bust my balls?" Dean asked, unable to but any heat behind his words. He was too damn tired now.

"No, Dean. I'm here to apologize." The sincerity was unmistakable.

"Huh," Dean said, scratching at the back of his neck. "That's fine. I mean, whatever. It's not like you know a lot about Earth just because you read my high school textbooks. Guess some problems were bound to happen." He unlocked the driver's side door, about to open it, Castiel stalling him with a hand on his forearm.

"It's more than that." He tugged Dean's arm gently, pulling the taller man around to face him fully. And now that Dean's anger had worn off, he once again discovered that those blue eyes completely focused on him caused a hell of a freeze frame. Even more when Castiel's fingers slid smoothly down his forearm over the bandage, and pulled the adhesive off. "I can heal this," he said softly. "May I?"

Dean nodded mutely. Castiel's fingers shifted to circle his wrist, palm pressed against the wound, and _had his fingers always been that long_? A warm patch spread slowly from the wound, up his arm. It felt like a mild heat winding up his veins, laced with static. It felt fantastic. Kind of like the protection spells his mother used to cast for him and Sam when they were afraid of the dark as kids. "How are you doing that?"

Castiel kept his attention on the wound, but his lips tilted up minutely. "I'm using my grace."

That explained the sense of calm, almost love that issued from it. That was everything he'd heard about an angel's grace described to the letter. When he was done, there wasn't even any blood left on his skin. Dean shook his hand out to clear the last of the tingling in his fingers. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

"You're welcome," Castiel answered. "And, I _am_ sorry. I... judged Benny unfairly. I also very clearly underestimated you. You're..." He looked away. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Gradually his expression cleared. "You're very unexpected, Dean Winchester."

Dean bumped him on the arm with his closed fist before opening his door and climbing in. He reached over to the passenger side and pushed it open, too. "Want a ride, or you just gonna poof back to the bunker?"

"I would enjoy the company," Castiel answered, sliding in and buckling his seat belt.

With a smile, Dean gunned the engine. He wasn't positive, but it seemed like Castiel enjoyed riding in cars, though he could get there a million times faster by teleporting, or whatever it was he did. He even rolled his window down an inch and turned his face to the breeze. It was freezing out, but cranking up the heater helped. "So," Dean said, "does this mean you're willing to join the team?"

"Yes. I must admit that Bobby's plan sounds intriguing. Perhaps we can all be of benefit to each other after all."

"I hope so," Dean answered. "It's worth a try, anyway. If it doesn't work, we'll think of something else. But I gotta say it'll be nice to have your angel mojo on our side."

Castiel nodded once. "I'll do whatever I can to keep you and Sam safe."

"That'll work," Dean answered gamely, turning off onto the driveway. "You can watch out for us since you think we're so important, and we'll watch out for humanity. That's a win-win."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said sincerely. "I don't deserve your forgiveness and trust at this point, but I appreciate the chance to redeem myself."

He shrugged a single shoulder. "Some people deserve a second chance. You're one of 'em."

Castiel didn't answer, but his shoulders rolled back more comfortably against the seat. The silence felt much lighter as they drove the remaining distance to the bunker.

Naturally, Sam had already heard about the call. He was hovering in the war room when Castiel and Dean appeared.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean said before he'd even made it down the stairs.

"I figured," Sam scoffed. "Benny?"

He shrugged. "Pissed at what I made him do, but he won't be mad forever since he's still alive." He shucked off his uniform shirt on his way towards the living quarters, Sam and Castiel following in his wake. "Pamela also told me we're gonna meet with Bobby about the Avengers Initiative or some shit."

"Yeah," Sam grinned. "He sounded weirdly excited about it when he called a little while ago."

"Until then, I need a shower and sleep," Dean said.

He was halfway to the bathrooms when Castiel called, "Dean," in his attractive, unsure voice.

Dean turned with a small, encouraging smile. "We're square, Cas. Fresh start, okay?"

Castiel considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

At least Dean could say he solved the smaller crises.

xXx

Bobby finally called them in after ten that night to come to a meeting at the hospital. And though he really felt as though he could have slept for about twenty more hours, Dean was pretty intrigued to see what it was all about.

Sam swiped his card at the private elevator and, sure enough, it took them straight up to the spell room floor, just as Pamela had said it would.

It wasn't difficult to figure out which of the twelve rooms had been taken over. It was the largest spell room at the end of the hall on the back wall, tucked away from the other, smaller rooms that lined the side walls. It had a sign on it handwritten in large block letters, SITUATION ROOM.

"That's not ominous at all," Sam said warily as they approached.

The door swung open before they'd even reached it, and a short redhead gave them all a once-over. "Sam and Dean Winchester? Castiel?" she asked.

"That's us," Dean answered. "I'm Dean, that's Sam, Cas is bringing up the back."

"Awesome! Wow, real angel and everything. That's amazing. I'm totally stoked to have you here! I'd thought you'd be taller, though." She tilted her head to the side in disappointment as she studied the angel. 

Castiel did his best to not blend in and stared right back. "My vessel is of average male height," he argued, and Dean snickered. So even angels could take hits to their pride.

"Still! All that angel-y power and whatever. Thought you'd need something bigger to contain it or something." She shook her head vigorously like she was bringing herself back to reality while Dean stifled a truly rude laugh behind his fist. "Anyway! Totally off point, just an observation. I'm Charlie, head computer tech here! Welcome aboard! Captain Singer's in the back grumping at everyone who gets too close to his desk." She stepped aside and let them all then, then secured the door behind them, punching in an access code on the keypad next to the handle. "Now that you're here, I'll set you up with access codes of your own. It's how we track who comes and goes and when."

They stopped not far into the room to really drink in the surprising impressiveness of it all. Bobby hadn't been whistling Dixie when he'd called the place a command center, and he'd definitely pulled out all the stops to outfit it. The first thing they noticed was a huge LED map of Kansas projected onto a smart screen against the nearest wall, different colored lights blinking all over it. 

"Pretty cool, right?" Charlie enthused. "That's my little pet project right there. It's displaying all of the supernatural occurrences around the state that I've deemed odd."

"Odd how?" Sam asked.

She shrugged expansively. "I have no idea. There's no discernible pattern. Yet. I'll find it, though. Was hoping Castiel here could give me some ideas to narrow things down. For now they're just things we don't see much of and the search parameters are too big." She ticked the list off on her fingers. "Supernatural beings not native to the area, attacks happening at the wrong time of day or month, seemingly-random clusters of attacks in greater numbers than usual. Stuff like that. But more on that later. Bobby's gonna wanna talk to you now that you're here." She pointed towards the opposite corner.

The rest of the room was filled with long tables with walking space between them, computers lining them, phones, papers in hazardous stacks, and a larger desk shoved into the corner with Bobby Singer behind it, looking like Christmas had come early. He was talking animatedly with none other than Jody Mills and Jo Harvelle, as well as a shorter blond woman around Jody's age who neither Dean nor Sam recognized.

"Come on over, boys!" Bobby called.

The trio made their way over, dodging other cops and various first responders weaving through the tables and computer banks.

"This is pretty freaking amazing," Dean said.

"Damn right it is. I don't go by half measures. We're all here to figure out what the hell's happening out there because Cas is probably onto something."

Sam glanced around. "This... isn't exactly 'hush hush' like you said."

"It's as hushed as we can make it," Bobby returned. "The only people I've invited are people I trust completely. Sheriff Mills, you've met."

She shook hands all around. "It's good to see you looking back to rights, Dean," she said. "Nice to meet you, Sam. Good seeing you again, Cas."

"A pleasure," Castiel smiled at her.

Bobby cleared his throat pointedly when Jody didn't look away and suddenly felt the urge to fix her hair. "Jo's practically family, so she's good. For a little extra clout, we've got Sheriff Donna Hanscum. Jody vouched for her."

Donna's handshake was as firm and enthusiastic as her grin. "So nice to meet you guys. I'm pleased as punch to be a part of this. Thrilling stuff! Oh... dangerous, of course, but still pretty thrilling, am I right?"

Dean chuckled and Sam looked constipated. Castiel thanked her graciously for her help.

"Donna's also noticed a lot of growing activity in her area, and she's the best Supernatural Victims Unit officer I've ever known, so pick her brain; she can really help out," Jody said.

That makes Sam smile. "Dean wanted to be an SVU detective when he was a kid."

Donna's eyes lightened at that. "Being EMS ain't too shabby, though. Still out there saving lives!"

"Anyway," Bobby said pointedly to redirect their attention, "you boys are here to be our mobile response unit." He gestured for them to sit down. Sam and Dean took the chairs in front of the desk while Castiel remained standing behind them.

"What does that even mean?" Dean asked. "Pamela mentioned it, but she was pretty... brief."

Jody perched on the edge of Bobby's desk, crossing her ankles. "We've decided that we need people out in the field in strategic locations. However, since Charlie can't give us a better lead than the whole state for the moment, we figured the best idea was to outfit one of the ambos. Make it into a sort of mobile ER and data collection site. Hopefully get a few more solid clues that could lead to better forecasting."

It was certainly an ambitious idea. Boots on the ground investigating what was going on and being able to stop the occurrences while gathering more information made a lot of sense. It was killing an awful lot of birds with one stone. "Okay," Dean ventured, "but I can't be the only EMT on the rig. Sam's good for ER stuff, and even Cas can heal humans, but neither of them know how to do fieldwork. It's impossible by myself."

"You want Lafitte," Bobby said. It wasn't a question.

"You know how hard it is for me to find people I play well with," Dean answered.

Bobby turned his attention to Sam and Castiel. "Opinions?"

Sam shrugged. "Dean's right about needing someone else. I can help once people are brought in, but I'm not as good or fast at working a scene like Dean and Benny are. It'd be nice to have him."

Bobby's eyes alighted on Castiel and the angel was startled to be asked directly for his opinion. Even Dean swiveled around to gauge his reaction. The angel's blue eyes flicked to the EMT briefly before settling on Bobby and saying, "I've seen him and Benny work together. They're a wonderful team. I believe he can be trusted to help." He couldn't explain the wave of pleasure he felt when his statement earned him a wide smile from Dean and a thumbs up.

"That takes care of that, then," Bobby said. "You'll get your calls from us. Charlie'll be running dispatch with her people, so you go where she tells you. Jody, Donna, and Jo here will be your all access pass. They'll keep the locals and uniforms off your back. They'll be in charge of PR, so don't you three go telling no one anything. I'm pretty sure we might be in the position to need to bend some rules every now and then, so they'll be your backup."

"What am I to do?" Castiel asked.

"Whatever the hell you want," Jody answered. "You're the angel, right? I mean, you're not under our jurisdiction, so it's not like we can give you orders."

Dean cut in. "What do you _wanna_ do, Cas?"

The ocean blue eyes focused on Dean again. "I'd like to go with you for a while. It seems pointless to research on my own since it's likely we'll end up in the same place for the same reason. I want to help you here."

Dean fleetingly wished that Castiel would stop being so agreeable after their brief falling out. It wasn't good for his blood pressure. "Fine," he said gruffly, but it only sounded relieved. "You can ride along whenever you want. Might help you to be there and tell us if we're missing anything important."

"Yes," Castiel agreed.

Bobby paged Charlie over and she bounced to them with an excited look. "All the Avengers assembled now?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean said the same damn thing."

Bobby ignored it. "Charlie, we need another card and code made for Benny Lafitte. He'll be partnered with Dean as the other EMT."

She saluted. "Done in a minute. Stop by my desk before you go to get your door codes." And then she was gone again to the largest computer setup in the room. It was right next to the map, had 3 screens, and a plethora of nerdy toys and collectibles scattered around. Dean liked it.

They talked for nearly another hour, hashing out the finer details to get the mobile unit up and running with the fewest amount of hiccups possible. And though Dean had been pretty ambivalent about the whole thing up until now, he had to admit as they got their promised door codes, he was kind of excited to start the secret agent life. It was a lot more dangerous than even his day job, but it was still safer than them going out alone to tackle this thing from the side.

xXx

Benny was still recovering from his accident in the supernatural ward by the time he'd been debriefed, so Dean took the time to stop by now that he was allowed visitors. Sam and Castiel accompanied him, and Benny looked surprised to see them at all, especially after official visiting hours were long over for the night.

"What's goin' on?" he greeted. "Here to bust me out? Not like I'd complain."

Dean grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Nope! You're just gonna have to suffer here until the docs let you go. We do need to talk about a recent job change for the both of us, though."

Benny stared at Dean and then Sam and then Castiel. "Uh... you happy about getting fired, or something? 'Cause I can't imagine either of us changing jobs and being happy."

"Unless it's a promotion and not a pink slip," Dean countered. "There's a lot to talk about once you're out, but long story short? We're becoming independent contractors as a mobile ER to help Cas figure out what's up with this whole Rapture thing."

"That was _real_?" Benny asked, dumbstruck. "Seriously? Man alive, that's bad news. And you wanna shove us to the front lines?"

"We've got plenty of backup," Dean said.

Benny silently gave Dean a significant hard look. "You know I'd follow you to Hell and back, brother. Whatever it is, I'm in. As long as that ain't gonna be a problem." He nodded his head towards Castiel.

"It won't," the angel confirmed. "I'm sorry for my earlier rudeness and assumptions. I've spoken with Dean about you and he assures me that my judgement was entirely misplaced. If you can forgive me for that, I believe that we will all work quite well together."

"Huh," Benny answered thoughtfully. "You got it, Cas." Then to Dean, "keep me posted. I'll be out of here first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good stuff." Dean gave the vampire's shoulder a squeeze and they said their goodbyes a few minutes later. 

On their way back to the bunker, even Castiel had more than usual to say about the plan. He was impressed with the response and careful planning, saying that the people involved reminded him a lot of his garrison in Heaven. That devolved into a talk of his work, which Castiel was reticent about explaining, saying only that he'd been a warrior. Sam seemed impressed. Dean said he wouldn't have believed that for a second if he hadn't seen Castiel stab a vampire in the neck earlier with his own eyes. And despite the overwhelming seriousness of the situation, Dean felt light with the knowledge that there was a plan now which would work with so many good people involved in it. He could tell that Sam and Castiel felt the same with their easy smiles and relaxed conversation. 

Until they pulled up the driveway to the bunker near the entrance to the underground parking garage. Dean slammed on the Impala's brakes, and Castiel leaned over the back seat, suddenly tense. Two men stood bathed in the headlights, hands in their pockets. One was fairly tall, dressed in dark clothes. The other was shorter in jeans an a t-shirt. Neither looked like they were paying a social visit.

Castiel was first out of the car, Dean only a few steps behind him. He ran around the back of the car to catch the angel's arm, pulling him up short before they rounded the front. "What's going on, Cas?" he hissed. "Who are these guys?"

Without looking at Dean, Castiel called out over the engine noise, "Gabriel. Balthazar. How did you find this place?"

The taller man spoke first in a clipped British accent. "Not easily, I can assure you." Then seeming to read Castiel's mind, he continued, "we've come alone and without permission. We need to talk."


	9. Chapter 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hits just keep on coming. Dean and Castiel have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very careful editing this chapter. I'd written it before I posted the last chapter, but after hearing everyone's concerns, I took extra care when approaching the subjects in this one.

The surge of righteous anger and protective promise welled up in Castiel so overwhelmingly that it showed visibly in the way he pulled himself to his full height and planted his feet apart in a challenging stance.

"No," Castiel said sharply. "I don't trust you."

The shorter angel uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. The strange silver blade he'd used before appeared in Castiel's hand again and he shifted in front of Dean. The other angel held up his hands in a placating motion, taking two steps back. "Fair enough, Cassie," he said. "Hear us out, at least. Then you can decide whether anyone gets skewered tonight, okay?"

"Cas," Dean's voice barely carried. "We don't need to do this tonight."

"Why are you here?" Castiel demanded, ignoring Dean, no less ready to back down. 

"To warn you," the British one said.

"Who are these guys?" Sam asked, appearing next to his brother. "More angels?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, voice hard. "Archangels. Gabriel and Balthazar. They can't be trusted."

Dean pressed a hand between Castiel's shoulders to show his solidarity, and also to perhaps stop him from fighting before thinking. Not that Dean had anything to say about restraint, because he barely had _that_ sometimes, but the contact helped calm his racing heart, too. He admitted that he did actually feel safer with Castiel's solid weight in front of him, facing down archangels or not. "They with the assholes starting the Rapture?"

"No!" the other two angels exclaimed simultaneously.

"Certainly not!" Balthazar said with an almost comical level of offense.

"Hell to the no!" Gabriel followed up. "Those jackholes are screwing everything up. We're not here to bring you back into the fold, Cas. What we're _trying_ to accomplish here is to help you out."

"And warn you," Balthazar added.

"And warn you," Gabriel agreed.

"About what?" Castiel demanded, not backing down an inch.

"You're cut off, kiddo," Gabriel said. "Zach and Raph know you're down here and they sure as shit ain't happy about it. The only reason they haven't come after you yet is because they don't think you're strong enough to fight them on your own. Which, duh, you're not. In the meantime, they've put Heaven under lock and key to redirect souls to Purgatory."

Castiel dropped his blade to his side, alarm clear in his stiff posture. The angel's alarm alarmed Dean and Sam right back. Sam, sensing that no one's death was particularly imminent for the moment, felt safe enough to turn his attention to Castiel. "What does he mean?" he demanded.

"It means I can't hear the angels anymore. I can't sense their plans. And I won't be able to utilize the gifts of my grace."

Dean's breathing picked up slightly. That was bad. Extremely bad. The high from the last few hours was well and truly gone. "Cas, what the hell? What's gonna happen if you have no grace?"

Finally, Castiel saw fit to turn his laser focus away from the other angels and to Dean. "I still have it, but I'm afraid I won't be able to help as much on your missions. I can't heal everyone. Without access to Heaven's blessings, there is very little that I can do."

"What'll happen if you get hurt while we're out on a call or something?" Sam piped up.

Balthazar answered. "Same thing that happens to everyone else, kitten."

Sam's lips curled up into a snarl that was bound for some regrettable words, so Dean slid behind Castiel to his brother, patting his shoulder and shaking his head. Sam swallowed his first words and settled on, "fine. So, none of you are immortal anymore?"

"We never really were completely," Castiel answered. "We _can_ be killed, but only by angel blades. Until we're cut off from Heaven." He held his blade up and then slipped it back up the sleeve of his trench coat. "And we can heal ourselves if we're injured, but only so much now. A fatal wound for you would certainly be the same for any of us."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Then why did you two decide to risk it and come down here to warn Cas? He ain't acting like you're a welcome sight, so I'm leaning towards thinking you're with the other assholes trying to kill us all."

Gabriel spread his hands wide. "For real? No way, man! Balth and I have been scurrying down to Earth for eons! We like it here. I've got a nice little setup in the country. Pool, screening room-"

"Yes, yes, you're a big name in the porn industry," Balthazar cut him off sarcastically. "Point is, we like this planet the way it is. And no one bothered us and our little side ventures before. But now with Zachariah and Raphael ruining everything, we felt the need to come and see what the fuss is about. I imagine you've been blocking angel radio just to be safe, haven't you Cassie?"

"Only until I was certain I could be undetected," Castiel answered sullenly.

"Get to the point," Dean snapped.

"Fine," Balthazar said airly. "Gabriel's heard more, so I defer to him." He nodded in a mocking bow.

"It's going a little something like this," Gabriel began, looking much too pleased to be the bearer of what was certainly bad news. "Zach and Raph have totally figured out a way to open the doors to Purgatory. No one knows how, and they're not talking, but word is the King of Hell has been sniffing around for answers. You chuckleheads know anything about that?"

"No," Sam lied shortly, mostly because Gabriel was staring right at him.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter for now. What's important is that you were right about the Rapture, Cas. It's a done deal, and as soon as those two have enough souls collected and turned, they're gonna let them out of the gate to drag everyone else they can down. Those are _damned_ souls, too. Not the kind that are _supposed_ to be saved during the real Rapture. They won't go to Heaven. They'll go back to Purgatory or Hell. But that's not the part they're concerned with. They don't give a rat's ass about the Chosen getting to paradise. What _they_ care about is the endgame."

"Releasing Lucifer to battle Michael," Castiel said.

Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Bingo. See, they know how the vessels are supposed to be for this little battle royale, and all they care about is watching the Earth burn. They hate humans. Resent them. Think they're a plague on the world that Daddy dearest created. So they want it to end. Just pushing forward the timeline, if there ever _was_ one to begin with."

Dean took a step back to be able to sink down onto the hood of the Impala. "Great. That's just freaking _great_. Now what are we supposed to do?"

Sam turned to him with that dangerous light in his eyes. "Dude, we find the vessels! Tell them what's going on. I mean, we don't have a lot of solid angel lore, but you have to give permission for an angel to possess you, right?"

"Yes," Balthazar confirmed.

"So, that's great! If we tell the vessels what's going to happen, for sure they'd say no, right? Anyone would."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Then you haven't got a problem there, Samwise."

"What do you mean?"

Gabriel practically crowed with glee dropping the bomb. " _You_ and your brother here are the foretold vessels. Specifically, Lucifer for you, Sam, and Michael for you, Dean. Which is so weird, don't you think? I would have thought it would be the other way around. Sam's practically a _saint_ with how he's lived his life, but _you_ , Dean, you're the whole deadly package! You've done everything, _including_ indulging in the sins of the flesh with a _vampire_! If that's not some teen movie bullshit, I don't know what is!"

"What the hell?" Dean shouted. This time it was Sam's turn to stall his brother from exploding.

"Now's not the time for you to defend Benny's honor," Sam muttered. "We've got a much more important point to focus on. Like, being the vessels for angels who are going to start a holy war."

Dean snapped up and swung around to face Castiel. "Did you... tell me you didn't."

Castiel shook his head firmly, eyes wide and clear with distress. "I didn't know that you and Sam were the vessels for Michael and Lucifer. I knew you were important, but I had no idea. I really didn't. Please believe me, Dean. Please, I didn't know."

Dean kept his hard assessing stare on Castiel for an uncomfortable minute before sighing out of his nose. "I believe you. You wouldn't have kept something like that from us." He turned his attention to the unwelcome angels again. "Well, Sam and I won't do something as stupid as letting angels use our meat suits. Especially if they plan to destroy the world."

"I wouldn't count on that," Balthazar said regretfully. "We don't know the ins and outs of Zachariah and Raphael's plans, so we have no clue what aces they might have up their sleeves to get you to agree."

Sam snorted. "I can't think of anything that would be worth starting the apocalypse over."

"You say that _now_ ," Gabriel answered. "Whatever the case may be, all Balth and I wanted to do what fill in the blanks."

"We have it under control," Castiel said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure that mobile response thingy you set up will save the world."

"It might!" Sam insisted. "We won't know until we try. And who are you two to judge whatever we're doing, anyway? It's not like you're taking up arms like Cas here to help us. You wanna go put your heads in a hole and let everyone else do the dirty work, fine. But stop wasting our time."

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean muttered under his breath. Leave it to his brother to dress down _archangels_. He hoped they didn't decide to smite his brother just because he'd back-talked them, but they didn't exactly seem like the type to do that. In fact, Gabriel looked amused that Sam was spitting venom at them. 

"You're adorable," Gabriel said dreamily to Sam.

Sam made a noise of disgust. "Thanks for the warning and everything, but you two are obviously gonna be useless, so it's time for you to be on your way."

Gabriel opened his mouth to say a dozen more things that would piss Sam off, but Balthazar wrapped his arm around his companion's shoulders firmly. "We've done what we came to. They can sort the rest out for themselves."

"Agreed," Gabriel said. "Well, thanks for the lack of hospitality and all, but we gotta get going." He gave a saucy wink to Dean. "Have fun with all your future bad decisions."

Dean jerked forward, but Gabriel and Balthazar had disappeared. "What the hell?" Dean snapped. "That was _it_?"

"Apparently so," Castiel answered stiffly. 

"Were they lying?" Sam asked.

"No," Castiel answered. "They have no reason to. It's true that they've been absent from Heaven more often than not. But few angels have any authority to challenge archangels. And they haven't been going directly against any of Heaven's orders, so most have turned a blind eye."

"They're fucking cowards," Dean spat. He stomped back to the car, Sam and Castiel following him. They pulled into the garage and Dean didn't hang around to wait for the others after he parked the Impala, slamming the driver's door shut and making as much angry noise as possible as they entered the upper floor of the bunker.

"What the _fuck_ was that all about?" Dean fumed. "How's that son of a bitch have any right to judge me?" He slammed his keys onto the table and threw his leather jacket with force towards the couches near the bookcase. "I mean, yeah, I've done some things that might be considered 'sinful.'" Next went his boots flying towards the hall. "I should'a called some of those chicks back after taking them home, instead of just bolting. Some of the guys, too, I guess. But people _do_ that sometimes! I like to drink and swear and eat too much, but I _save people's lives_! I'm making up for my shortcomings! I don't lie or cheat or steal! That's something, right? And I'll be _damned_ if anyone has something to say about me and Benny, because we were _good_ , and-" He whirled around, the rest of his tirade dying on his lips.

Sam was giving his brother a very practiced blank look. But Castiel looked like his head was about to explode with all the blasphemy all at once. 

Dean's mouth was suddenly extremely dry. "Anyway," he finished weakly. "Bigger fish to fry."

Shrugging, Sam said, "we definitely need to come up with some contingency. Tell Bobby what happened. I can barely believe any of this. It's so... huge. I mean, are we really destined to be the vessels? Is there anything that we can _actually_ do about it?"

Castiel removed his trench coat and folded it carefully over his arm. "There is such a thing as destiny, but just because you're _destined_ to do something, doesn't mean it's fated."

"That's not comforting," Dean said moodily. "What are our options for fighting this? I'm pretty sure it's not gonna be as easy as just saying no."

"Unlikely," Castiel agreed.

Sam rubbed his temples. "Okay, that's... damn. My brain's fried. Think there's any harm in sleeping on this one for a few hours?"

"We're safe for now," Castiel confirmed.

"Music to my ears," Dean said wearily. "Let's hit the sack. Deal with this shit tomorrow."

"'Night, Dean," Sam said.

Dean grunted and shuffled back towards his room, all the fight gone now. Now was the worst part. The part where he had to process and think about what it all meant. Michael's vessel? The one who was somehow destined to kill Lucifer; his _brother_ being possessed by Lucifer? It sounded like the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard. Neither of them would _ever_ agree to something like that. He was positive that Zachariah and Raphael's plans were sunk before they'd even gotten off the ground, though he knew that wouldn't stop them from trying. It just added an extra dark shade of danger that they were already in. From the way Castiel and Balthazar and Gabriel had talked about their brothers, Dean wasn't willing to rule out the possibility that they'd try any dirty trick they had to get Sam and Dean into bed with the devil and his brother. That meant no one they knew and cared about would be safe. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. Now what?

A series of soft knocks on the door stopped his spiraling thoughts and quick pacing. "Yeah?" he called.

Castiel opened the door. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Dean said, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Sorry about... before. Needed to get away for a second to have a breather."

"I understand," Castiel said. "What Gabriel and Balthazar said was quite the shock for me to hear as well. I imagine it must be so much worse for you and Sam."

"Dunno how Sam stayed so calm about the whole thing," Dean admitted. "I feel like I'm losing my damn mind."

"This changes nothing," Castiel answered. "Bobby's plan is good. But now that we know why you and Sam are so important, I can do more to protect you. Such as it is without my grace."

"I guess," Dean said tiredly. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all. I'll be able to think about it better once it's all sunk in." He paused and considered the angel for a moment. "You look like you've got something else to say. Go ahead. Today's the day for shocking revelations and all"

Castiel hesitated. "I'm not sure if it's an appropriate time," he said. "I'm still uncertain of social nuances in changing the subject of conversation."

"Just ask it, man. I'm getting used to your weird timing."

He nodded. Then carefully he said, "you and Benny..."

Dean slumped forward, resting his forearms on his legs, hands dangling between his legs. "Yeah, me and Benny. Once upon a time. Does that bother you? Is that one of the big sins? Gabe made it sound like a pretty juicy one." He didn't bother to look up because he was just a tiny bit afraid of an angel's judgement.

"I have no opinion on sexuality," Castiel said gently. "It's not a sin to fall in love. Even if the other person isn't human anymore. I had another reason to bring it up."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Your soul isn't nearly as stained as you think it is, Dean." His piercing blue gaze settled on Dean again, and once again, Dean felt painfully _human_. Like Castiel was seeing something no normal person could. "You defended yourself before, but you believe that you _have_ sinned a great deal more than you've paid penance."

"Not like I go to church," Dean muttered.

Castiel smiled slightly. "It's not about worship. It's in you, Dean. The good is there. I believe you are a righteous man. Your soul is quite bright."

"Then why'd you ask about Benny?"

Castiel looked away. "Part of it is curiosity. I know little of human interactions. Though I realize that romantic relationships are usually private matters. I also wondered why what Gabriel said affected you so much."

With a shrug, Dean said haltingly, "it's... Benny and I had a thing years ago. Before we were even paramedics. It was kinda wild, actually." A partially humorless laugh escaped his lips. "But it never would have lasted. It wasn't that sort of thing."

He felt the bed dip as Castiel sat down beside him with hands folded in his lap, trying to imitate Dean's posture. It looked awkward and a bit ridiculous, but Dean appreciated the effort all the same. "What happened?" he asked.

Dean stretched back. He rested his weight on his hands behind his back on the mattress and kicked his feet out. Now that he knew Cas didn't have a problem with his past he didn't have the same trepidation meeting his eyes. "I loved him," he said simply, "more than anything. But then it was over."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel said regretfully.

Dean shrugged. "It's nothing to be sorry about. If there's something you should know about me, it's that I don't like having any regrets. It's not like I thought me and Benny would be forever. There were just too many things working against us. But I knew, I just _knew_ if I didn't try, I'd regret it for the rest of my life. He's a great guy. And he was a great boyfriend. When it ended... there weren't any hard feelings. We just realized our lives wouldn't work out that way, I guess. That relationship gave us the closeness we have now, which makes us awesome friends and partners. But nothing else. I don't like to dwell, and he's moved on."

Castiel's eyes widened. "I hadn't considered that of him."

Dean chuckled. "Right? He'll always be a flirt, probably. He's dating another vamp now. Andrea. She's good people. Owns a fleet of boats or something."

"That's... well." He seemed so at a loss as to what to say that Dean couldn't help another laugh.

After a moment he sobered slightly. "There a reason you're interested in all of this? It's got nothing to do with your mission, or anything."

Castiel shifted. Twisted his hands. "I'm intrigued by human relationships. The feelings that they can elicit."

Dean _hmm'd_ at the ceiling. "That it?" he asked lightly, unable to resist teasing the awkward angel, especially after all the shit they'd all been through that day. "You sure it's not because it's me?" He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, but the humor wiped off of his face the second he turned his eyes back to Castiel and saw his frustration and confusion.

"I'm not sure at all," Castiel answered. "I don't understand why I react to you differently than Sam, or Jody, or Gabriel, or anyone else. You're different Dean, and I don't understand why. Since our first encounter."

His owlish expression slowly infected Dean as well until they were both watching each other in surprise. "Uh... Cas, are you, like... trying to say that you're developing... a _crush_? On me?" The whole idea was so absurd that a note of a hysterical laughter almost bubbled out. He bit it back because the feeling wasn't exactly alien to him. He still distinctly recalled his first reaction to seeing Castiel. It had been very similar to the shock of lust he'd experienced that had led to several memorable evenings in motel rooms. Though, if he thought about it too long, he'd also have to admit that with Castiel, it was less the one night stand feeling, and more of the warmer appreciation that had lead to a Benny and Dean, and a Dean and Lisa. The feeling there could lead to the "and" that he assumed was impossible with an angel. Even in lore they weren't portrayed as beings who even had emotions or desires similar to humans. He both hoped and dreaded that he was wrong about that.

"I'm not familiar with human emotions," Castiel answered, confirming Dean's suspicions and leaving a complicated relief and disappointment swirlie in his core. 

"Huh. I mean... like... do you feel them at all?"

"I have _feelings_ ," Castiel said. "Angels aren't emotionless. It's just that... many of us in the garrisons were nothing except soldiers. Swords and enforcers. We didn't have jobs that necessitated forming close social bonds with others. Our jobs were to receive orders and follow them. We don't answer prayers, or help people fall in love, or negotiate with other beings like other ranks of angels do."

"Good little soldiers," Dean murmured, understanding.

"Yes," Castiel answered. "But I'm also certain that being cut off from Heaven amplifies the feelings I have now. I'm alone here on Earth. No other angels speak in my head, and I can't feel their presence. I have no orders. No purpose. No focus. I have nothing but myself to think about."

"That's not a bad thing, Cas," Dean said with gentle reproach. "You're not gonna be less of a warrior for getting to know yourself."

Castiel tilted his head to the side curiously. "So... it won't make you uncomfortable if I talk to you about these things from time to time? You're the expert, and, hopefully, a friend."

Dean smiled. "Nah, it's fine. It's a pretty human thing to do." _I'm the opposite of bothered by it._ He cleared his throat. "Sam's better at talking about feelings, though."

"I hope that I can ask him questions as well," Castiel said so seriously that Dean chuckled again.

"He likes the emotional stuff. Make sure you have a lot of time set aside to pick his brain, though. He'll go on and on forever if you let him."

"Understood," Castiel answered.

And with that hanging in the air between them, Dean found that Castiel's contemplative silent companionship wasn't as unnerving as he thought it would be. Somehow he felt at ease. Willing to let it stretch as they sat side by side, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Castiel stirred and glanced at the clock. "I should leave you alone to rest now. Thank you for speaking with me, Dean." He walked to the door and slipped out into the hallway.

"Same here, Cas," Dean smiled. And Castiel's return smile over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him, left Dean noticeably warmer inside until he drifted to sleep nearly an hour later.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first mission for Team Free Will!

Sam reported back to Bobby first thing the next morning about what Gabriel and Balthazar had said. Aside from being sore about more angels showing up, Bobby had told them that the plan wouldn't change, and to get their asses to the ambulance bay at the hospital. It was time to save some souls.

Benny was already there when they arrived, looking positively giddy while outfitting the rig. Dean let out a low whistle as he slipped out of the Impala. "Who'd they steal this one from?" he asked, patting the larger rig that probably sounded like a jet engine when it started up.

"Fire Rescue," Benny answered gleefully. "Crazy, right? We're flying first class now, brother. They downsized to smaller vehicles last year. This one was just gathering dust." He fist bumped Dean and they both climbed up into the back so Benny could give them the tour. "Seats two up front regular, one in the middle jumpseat if we need it. One on stretcher, up to four on the bench if we're feeling cozy."

Sam poked his head around the door, climbing up a second later. "This is great!" he enthused. "Thought I might have to get pretty creative with field treatments, but this'll do nicely." He poked at the vitals machine, hanging IV lines, opened some of the cabinets to find the rest of the gear. "What's in the outside compartments?"

"Anything that don't have much street value if it's pinched," Benny answered. "Gauze, gloves, saline, anything else you want to put out there yourself. I figure we pack light to start and see what works best."

"Good call," Sam answered.

Castiel appeared around the side next. "This is quite impressive," he said. He stepped up into the rig as well, looking around neutrally and not commenting or touching anything.

After a minute, Benny asked, "you all right there, Cas? "You seem kinda... down. Do angels even get that way?"

"Ah, I'm not sure what I can really do to help anymore."

"He's cut off from most of the good angel mojo now," Dean clarified.

"Oh. Well," Benny clapped Castiel on the shoulder and took him back out, guiding him towards the side of the rig, opening up the latches to the supply shelves as he went. "I trained Dean up back in the day. Even after all of those classes, he still had no idea how to run a rig properly. Doesn't take much in the way of book learning to be helpful. See where all this stuff is?" He indicated the shelves. Castiel nodded. "Memorize it. If we ask for it, get it to us quick. Watch what we do and how we help people. Learning by watching and doing is the best. Soon enough you'll figure out where you're best suited."

"You're a supportive teacher," Castiel said gratefully. "That must be why Dean is so good at his job now."

Benny chuckled. "Don't tell him that, though."

Sam and Dean jumped out of the back. "So what do we do?" Dean asked. "Wait for Bobby to get us something good?"

"That's the plan," Benny answered. 

Questions like that really did summon the answers. The second Dean and Sam had attached their new radios and turned them on, Charlie's voice chirped over them. "Hey guys! We've got a... uh... hang on... oh, here! 1052? Park and Lauless, Jody and Donna are on their way. Good luck!"

Dean snorted as he helped Benny shut the equipment doors and latch them. Sam and Castiel climbed into the back of the rig, Benny and Dean in front. "Someone needs to teach her radio etiquette and ten-codes," he said. 

Benny flipped on the sirens and the response unit roared to life. "Everyone has a first day on the job at some point," he answered. 

With a quick glance behind him to make sure that the dividing wall's window was shut, Dean said, "hey, thanks for... y'know, showing Cas the ropes. He's been sort of nervous about his new limitations and all."

Benny shrugged with a slow, lazy smile, keeping his eyes on the road. "It's his first day, too. And I seen the way you been looking at him. Gotta give the guy a fighting chance, don't I?"

"Jesus, Benny," Dean moaned. "I don't need to get mixed up with a fucking _angel_ , okay?"

He spared a quick glance to his partner, eyebrow tipping up. "Not hearing a denial in there. You really attracted to him?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Thumped his head back against the seat. "Can we not talk about this?"

"Nope."

"Benny-"

"Dean, I ain't seen you look at anyone like that for a few years now. Now, I'm not saying it's the _smart_ thing to do, goin' all in with an angel, but there are worse people in the world. Just sayin'... sometimes the heart wants what the hearts wants. You know that better than anyone."

With a small wince, Dean said, "yeah, and look where _that_ got me."

"It got _me_ ," Benny pointed out. "And, not to toot my own horn, but that ain't nothing."

Despite himself, Dean laughed. "True enough. Okay, yeah, I think Cas is hot. And kinda weird. Definitely powerful. Easy to just hang out with. Dunno what that all means, and I don't have time to think about it right now."

"Don't be surprised at the answer when you do," Benny suggested. He mercifully ended the conversation by knocking on the dividing window and opening it. "You two ready back there? The call ain't far."

Sam scooted closer on the bench to address them. "What's a 1052?"

Dean swiveled in his seat and pointed to a black binder secured on an overhead shelf. "Those have the codes in them, if you wanna study them. I know you like that shit, Sammy. 1052 is a demon infestation."

"Infestation?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah. Could be two, could be ten. Anything more than one."

"I _can_ help with that," Castiel assured them. "My grace will always allow me to kill demons with a touch, cut off from Heaven or not."

Benny grinned. "Useful."

"Here's the deal," Dean said sternly to make sure he had both Sam and Castiel's attention. "The first thing we have to do is attend to the poor meat suits the demons are wearing. No holy water, no demon blades, nothing that'll harm the people. Good old exorcism is the way to go for the first step. Patch up the living, seal the dead." Then he was struck with a sudden idea. "Cas, you said you could see my soul. Can you see other ones?"

"Yes," Castiel answered carefully, not sure how the news would be received by Benny and Sam. They didn't appear to mind, which was nice to know. He wasn't sure if they would have considered it an invasion of privacy.

"Awesome," Dean answered. "That'll help a lot. You see a walking and talking body without a soul, kill that damn demon. It'll save us time. Benny and Sam will get the living to safety, and I'll do the exorcism. We good with that?"

Everyone agreed, and then Castiel asked, "what did you mean when you mentioned that you'd need to seal the bodies?"

Sam answered with a grimace. "We'll have to put anti-possession charms on the bodies. Demons who are on Earth illegally will take whatever bodies they can get. They often try to steal freshly dead or preserved bodies to avoid quicker detection."

Benny added, "we have to make sure that we can get them back to the morgue safely. Once they're on ice, the fridges have anti-possession charms on them. Body bags, too. Kinda grim, but you know how it is."

Castiel looked like he didn't at all know how it was, but he kept silent. 

"Definitely looks like more than one," Sam said, pointing out the windshield. 

They all turned their attention to the front. Black marks scorched the grass around an abandoned building and parking lot. "Definitely more than one," Dean said. 

Benny maneuvered the larger rig carefully up the overgrown parking lot to where Jody and Donna were parked outside the front entrance of the building. It looked like it used to be a supermarket, but now the windows were broken and everything was dusty and gritty. Once they jumped out of the ambulance, their noses were immediately assaulted by the heavy smell of sulfur. 

"Hey, guys," Donna greeted, not taking her attention away from the doors. Nothing moved, the air still and frigid.

Dean stepped forward. "What's the word?"

Donna nodded over her shoulder. "They're holed up in there. Four of them, maybe? Jody and I got ourselves neat little anti-possession charms, and I'm guessing you guys do, too, so there's nowhere for them to smoke out."

"What's the plan?" Sam asked.

Jody back stepped towards them, gun still raised towards the door. "Don't have one as of yet, but it'd be nice if you could help. The demons possessed living people, so far as we can tell."

"I could tell," Castiel said. "Do you know where they're located inside?"

"Basement stockroom when we pulled back," Jody answered. "You can't go in there alone."

"I'll go with him," Dean said immediately.

"Too dangerous," Benny argued. "Not enough exits if you need to bail."

Jody nodded. "Agreed."

Dean shouldered his bag. "I'll have Cas with me. He's an angel. They're _made_ to get rid of demons. Plus, unless any of you have been practicing lately, I'm better at exorcisms than anyone here."

Sam's face pinched. "That much is true." He turned towards the angel. "You sure you can keep him safe? Maybe we should all go."

Castiel shook his head. "I can protect him. Four demons is... challenging. But I can hold them off until Dean can finish the exorcism. It is best to keep our numbers small." The angel blade slipped from his sleeve and he held it tightly. 

"I can chant and fight at the same time," Dean assured him. "Just try to keep them off of me as much as you can."

"You need backup," Jody said.

Dean grinned, looking far more confident than he felt. "We got it right out here. Just keep your guns on the door and try not to shoot anything that Sam'll have to patch up later unless you absolutely have to."

"Be careful, Dean," Sam said.

"We got it out here, brother," Benny added.

Dean winked and turned to the angel. "Guess it's you and me now. Shake a tail feather, man."

"I don't have a tail," Castiel said, confused, but followed Dean obediently to the front door. The paramedic reached out to grasp the handle, but Castiel stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Let me go first." Dean didn't bother to argue and stepped out of the way.

The metal and glass door opened soundlessly. They paused in the entryway, listening. Footprints marred the thick carpet of dust on the floor. It went straight back towards the stockroom. Dean nodded and Castiel took them forward slowly and silently while the human watched the footprints to make sure they hadn't veered off anywhere. They hadn't. They passed empty shelves, some fallen, collapsed ceiling tiles, and general detritus littering their route until the stopped in front of a pair of swinging doors. The round windows were too dirty to see through, but Castiel pressed his hand to the door gently. 

"They're still back there," he whispered. "All of them."

"Why haven't they smoked out if they're trapped here?" Dean whispered back.

"I don't know," Castiel mused. "If they are really part of Zachariah and Raphael's plan, they may be waiting for orders to get to Purgatory. We must get in there quickly."

Dean squeezed the angel's shoulder, and Castiel pushed open the door. It didn't take them long to find the demons. They were huddled towards the back of the stockroom near the loading bay doors. The door squeaked as it swung shut and the four of them swung around. 

"Cas," Dean said shortly.

"Two human still. I'll deal with the others. Quickly!"

Dean kept himself as far back as he could and began the exorcism in a firm, even voice. He almost lost his train of thought when he saw Castiel rush the demons. He was on them in a split second, black wings snapping open and beating ferociously. Thankfully the chant was mostly muscle memory now because he definitely would have lost the words when Castiel grabbed two of the demons by their faces and slammed them to the ground like they weighed nothing. There was a flash of blue light and the scent of scorched flesh filled the air. 

Dean had been so focused on the compelling image of Castiel in his wrath, busy chanting the exorcism, that he'd left himself wide open. One of the other demons was on him in a flash. A cold, shaking hand closed around his neck, squeezing tightly and cutting off his air. Dean choked, his throat contracting to cough, lips moving uselessly trying to continue the last of the exorcism. The demon was writhing in pain trying to anchor inside its body, but when Dean's words stopped, it regained its inhuman strength, holding harder and lifting Dean off of his feet. Dean grabbed at the arm holding him, beating on its wrist weakly.

Black edged in the corners of his vision. He knew he should stop struggling because it was only making him die faster, but panic overrode everything else. Just as his eyelids began to slip closed, he heard a voice like a thunderclap, " _Dean_!"

Air rushed back to his lungs in a single swoop, and he fell to his knees. He gasped, lightheaded, sucking oxygen in and coughing hard enough to gag. "Cas," he rasped, his voice gone to nothing.

The angel had both of the other demons held under their chins, lifting them high, sable wings beating with unbridled aggression. His eyes flashed with unnatural blue light. He lifted off the ground with the struggling demons. Dean hadn't been imagining the angel's voice taking on a quaking, unearthly tone. "You will not touch Dean Winchester." It hurt Dean's ears like the worst ear infection ever.

"Cas, stop," he groaned, voice recovering. "Please. They have souls. Don't kill them. Cas!"

Castiel's head turned down. "Dean," he boomed. The sound rattled the shelving around them. "Finish it."

He couldn't remember exactly where he'd left off, but his best guess proved to be enough. With Castiel still holding the two demons aloft, Dean finished the exorcism without interruption. They were gone. Castiel let the unconscious humans slide to the floor as he lowered himself to the ground in front of Dean.

Dean reached up automatically. "Cas," he said thinly, edged with desperation, "it's over." The image of Castiel more than himself... it was overwhelming. 

Castiel's toes touched the ground gently. The rest of him followed in slow motion, wings curling forward as he lowered himself to his knees, clutching Dean's outstretched hand with his own, enfolding them both with his wings. The bright blue light slowly, slowly faded, replaced by a beautiful, calming warmth. 

Dean's free hand also moved of its own accord, touching Castiel's jaw gently. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel answered, leaning into the touch, eyes closing briefly. He sounded normal again, and when his eyes reopened, they had lost their holy glow. "That demon was trying to kill you."

"They do that sometimes," Dean said, trying to go for levity, but it didn't quite carry. "I should have been paying more attention to them and not to you."

Castiel's fingers clenched around Dean's. "Did I frighten you?"

"No," Dean answered quickly, truthfully. "It was... kinda cool. The wings and the glowing and the smiting. It was awesome. You still have a lot of power."

A small smile tipped the corner of Castiel's lips. "I can still do what I'm meant to."

They were quiet for a moment. Castiel shifted slightly and it broke the spell. Dean was suddenly incredibly aware of how close they were. He could feel Castiel's warm breath on his face. The touching and lack of personal space wasn't what had Dean pulling away, though. It was the knowledge that he didn't mind any of it at all. "I have to check on the survivors," he said softly. "We need to report back."

Castiel unfurled his wings. Dean felt the loss acutely, but there really was no time to delay. He grabbed his fallen bag and skidded over towards the two people on the ground. "How can I help?" Castiel asked from close beside him.

Dean reached into his kit and pulled out a small black rubber stamp. He handed it to the angel. "Stamp their bodies somewhere while I take their vitals." He didn't even glance up, deft fingers checking their pulses, taking temperature, blood pressure. Without visible injury, they'd wake up in a few minutes by themselves. He called for the rest of the team over the radio now that everyone was dealt with.

Castiel uncapped the stamp and peered at it curiously. "This is an anti-possession charm."

"With bloodpaint," Dean added. "Really useful in the field. Demons like to come back to the same bodies if they can, so this'll stop that from happening for awhile. Until they can get something more permanent. Back in the day they had portable brands. Stamps are a lot less traumatic to the skin."

"Clever," Castiel murmured, stamping both of the humans on their arms. 

They heard the doors slam open. Castiel stood, making way for Benny to help Dean while Jody and Donna made sure that the area was secure. 

The woman woke first, groaning and grabbing her head. Dean comfortingly told her to take it easy, that she was safe, and helped her sit up. Castiel watched Dean slip into his caretaker mode, and he smiled privately at the sight. The woman wavered for a moment, but then steadied. "Thank you," she rasped to Dean as Sam took over giving her a more thorough examination.

"You have a sprained ankle. Nothing feels broken, but you need an x-ray just to be sure." He took a brace from Dean's bag and helped her into it carefully.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Jody asked, not wasting a minute.

The man was starting to stir, so Sam moved over there to examine him with Benny. Donna went to question him while Jody remained with Dean.

"I'm not sure," the woman said. "My car broke down about a half mile from here. It was dark outside, but there's that gas station over... um, two people drove up and said they'd give my husband and me a lift. Then... I dunno, I was waking up here?"

"You were possessed," Jody said kindly. "If it was dark outside, then at least twelve hours. I know it's difficult, but can you recall anything from after your car broke down?"

Dean helped the woman to her feet. "Yes," she said. "Just after we ran back here. Those other two demons..." she glanced around frantically, seeming just to remember them and her eyes fell on the bodies that Castiel had been instructed to cover with body bags.

"It's all right," Dean assured her gently, turning her away and guiding her towards the doors while Jody followed. "You're stamped with an anti-possession charm. Once we get you to the hospital, we'll make sure the tattoo guys make it permanent."

"Thank you," she said, leaning on Dean heavily as they picked their way back around the ruined floor to the outside. "So... what you asked, Sheriff? It's... they were talking. Something about a portal? They were waiting for it. Or... for someone to open it. I'm not sure. They didn't say much else."

Jody arched an eyebrow over the woman's shoulder to Dean. He nodded slightly, then she said to the woman, "that's helpful information. We're gonna keep you and your husband safe, okay? Get you patched up and feeling better. You'll need to answer a few more questions once you're settled at the hospital, if that's all right?"

"It's fine," the woman said. She let Dean guide her into the back of the ambulance, though she sat on the bench rather than lay down on the gurney. The husband showed up a minute later. Benny helped him in then turned to the cops.

"Comin' with?"

"Nah," Donna said with a wide smile. "Jody-o and I need to call this in. Clean it up. We think it's definitely part of the weirdness, right? Portal talking and all. Bobby'll want a thorough investigation."

"Gonna be okay on your own?" Dean asked.

"Yep! We're good. Get on to the hospital. Hope you feel better soon!" she called to the queasy-looking patients. Dean couldn't help a grin as he jumped down from the back.

"Sam? Cas? You got this?"

"We're good," Sam assured.

Dean slammed the rig's back doors and then went around to the front, but not before glancing back to the sheriffs. "Be careful."

"Will do," Jody answered.

Benny lit the sirens again and they peeled off towards the hospital. Dean picked up the radio. "Dispatch, this is Dean. We've got two humans on the way to the ER for medical clearance. Exorcised demons. Two more demons on sight, exorcised. Empty bodies. Could mean two souls in Purgatory."

Bobby answered. "Roger. Noted." Short and to the point as always.

Dean clicked off the channel and grinned encouragingly at Benny. "Not too bad for a first call."

Benny arched an eyebrow. "Says who? Those bruises on your neck?"

Dean rubbed the spot, humor fading. "Cas got the bastards. Gotta say, he was pretty badass back there."

Chuckling, Benny said, "I'll bet. Not doing anything for your crush, is he?"

"I'll keep you posted," Dean replied.

Sam slid the dividing window open. "Patients are stable. They'll probably just need a general all clear and tattoos and they'll be home by dinner."

"They'll have to talk to the team," Dean said.

"Yeah, Jo's meeting us there to get their official statements. You really okay, Dean? Cas gave me the gist of it."

"I'm good," Dean assured him, jaw set. "Stupid rookie move not watching the demons enough. Lucky Cas was there."

"I'll bet," Sam answered in a tone that suggested he might have heard more of Dean and Benny's conversation than he was letting on. He didn't push it, though, and for that, Dean was grateful. His throat was hurting from the attack, and ever since he'd seen Castiel go all wrathful angel, his heart wasn't beating normally. The afterimage was burned into his head, and he kept replaying it over again. He wasn't generally turned on by violence, but _fuck_. The way that Cas had taken on those first two demons. The way he'd saved Dean without a second thought. It was amazing.

The trip to the hospital was uneventful. Benny, Sam, and Dean took the two survivors in and led them to the secure ward where Pamela had instructed all the possible victims of the Rapture should go. Some of the doctors and nurses who they'd seen in the situation room were ready to receive them. Jo was also there, and Bobby.

They all answered questions, more detailed than they would normally have been, since this was the first call and everything. It took an hour, and when they were done, Dean had noticed that Castiel wasn't anywhere to be found. He searched the ER, but didn't see him inside. Taking a guess, Dean broke off and went back to the ambulance bay. Sure enough, the angel was perched on a bench attached to a wooden picnic table. Dean sat next to him. "Hanging in there, Cas?" The angel didn't answer. Valiantly, he tried again. "You did great today."

"I almost killed those people."

"To save me. And you didn't."

Cas's head dipped down low between his shoulders. "Dean..."

For the first time completely without hesitation and knowing full well what he was doing, Dean put his hand firmly over Castiel's shoulder and shook him gently. "You saved me and you didn't kill any humans. Cas, man, you're an _angel_. It's your job to smite demons or whatever. But you listened to me and you helped. You'll get the hang of it as you go. We've all got a lot of learning to do. But we'll manage it together."

"I don't know if it will be enough. I don't know if I will be enough."

Dean balled his hand into a fist and bumped Castiel with a bit of force. "That's why you've got us. Me. Trust me. I got you."

Finally, Castiel looked up and Dean felt something small jump in his chest when the angel's smile was turned to him. "I do."

"All right, then," he said, voice slightly rough. "Let's get back to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a few days off of writing and editing. Sorry, everyone. I'll try to get back to a better schedule.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

Three more calls turned into doubtful leads to round out the day, the overnight hours not being of much use, either. And by the end of their shift, they dragged their feet into the situation room feeling slightly downcast after such a promising start.

"Good job," Bobby said gruffly as Dean made a break for the coffee maker while the rest went to brief the captain.

"Hey, guys!" Charlie said brightly from her work station as they passed. "Big win for Team Free Will! The demons from this morning were a definite lead."

Dean waved slightly and grunted as he took a long swallow of the awful, over roasted brew. Only then did he shuffle over to Bobby's desk and collapse into the foldout chair next to his brother. Benny was yawning on Sam's other side, Castiel standing calmly behind them all.

"Not a bad start at all," Bobby said. "The suits seem to agree."

"Only one case," Dean said. "Is that gonna be enough?"

Bobby beckoned Charlie over. She trotted to them like she hadn't just spent nearly twenty-four hours on the dispatch radio. "It's plenty," she said. "I know you're worried about the increased cases lately, but if we can catch even just one or two a shift for now, we should be all right. Slow and steady wins the race."

Bobby agreed. "It'll take some tweaking to find out what we should be looking for to pinpoint real cases, but Charlie here says that every data point is valuable."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, so! Those two people you brought in were actually a bigger help than we thought at first. They didn't remember much, but they _did_ remember important stuff. They talked about the demons waiting for someone to open a portal. After questioning them a little bit more, we believe that Raphael and Zachariah can't just open a door to Purgatory any place they want."

Bobby crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "We don't know if there's a certain time to match the place, but the portals don't just pop open from this side. We've got CSU looking over the place to see if there's anything squirrely going on at the site. And I got uniforms keeping eyes on it if anything happens. That's a big win. More than we've ever had."

Sam leaned forward. "That's good! Guess we just have to keep going with it."

"We'll keep you updated," Bobby said. "Go get some rest."

The win felt small to Dean, but he tried to convince himself of the real truth. Any win was big. Anything they had was more than what they'd started with. However, he couldn't stop the nagging sensation that the clock was ticking a lot faster than they were running to meet it. So it went.

xXx

Two weeks turned into quite the routine. They had shifted their schedules to be on call, but most days none of them saw a reason to drive back and forth from the bunker after a dispatch, so the majority of the slow hours were spent in the situation room or the ambulance bay. Dean himself tended to relax in the bay's break room since it was far quieter than the noise upstairs. They'd scrounged up a mini fridge, unused sofa and old coffee table from one of the nurses' break rooms, a few folding chairs, and a TV to outfit the room. Dean wiled away hours with his feet kicked up on the table and daytime television on for background noise.

Today, Sam, Benny, and Castiel were all relaxing with him after an early call for an attempted succubus assault.

Castiel turned his attention away from the TV to watch Dean, who was working on making anti-possession bracelets using special charmed thread and small silver sigils. "What are you doing?" Castiel asked.

Dean pulled one of the long strings, tying a smart knot to add to the simple striped pattern he was doing in a variety of purple shades. The rhythmic, repetitive movements seemed to captivate the angel. "Friendship bracelets," he grinned.

Castiel's brow furrowed. "You give your friends anti-possession charms?"

He laughed, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on his work. "What's your favorite color, Cas?"

The angel was silent for so long that Dean eventually looked up to find him staring into the middle distance with a look of deep contemplation on his face.

"Seriously?" Dean said, amused. "It's not a hard question."

Castiel refocused on Dean and stared for another moment. "These days it's green," he answered thoughtfully.

With a smile, Dean reached into the front shirt pocket of his uniform and rummaged around for one of the green bracelets, tidy little knots in a simple chevron pattern in four different shades of green with a small anti-possession charm tied securely in the center. He offered it out to Castiel.

"I can't be possessed," the angel informed him.

"I know." He put his current project down and grabbed Castiel's hand, turning it over so that he could tie the bracelet securely around his wrist, then deftly cut the thread tails short with the scissors on his pocket knife. He patted the angel's hand and then released it. "These are for the kids, mostly. I give 'em out in Pediatrics and also take a bunch with me for calls. Helps them calm down when you ask them their favorite color and they get to pick one. They like them better than the stamps. Bloodpaint gets itchy on sensitive skin; can leave a rash. And you can't get a tattoo until you're eighteen without a parent's consent, even if it is for protection."

"Oh." Castiel turned his arm over, studying the bracelet carefully. "You're very good at making these. The spell on the thread is very strong."

He shrugged and turned back to his work. "Charmed it myself," he said with a hint of pride. "Helps pass the time when it's slow. And it's useful." For the next thirty minutes he was acutely aware of Castiel watching him, completely focused on how Dean put the bracelets together. Every time Dean flicked his eyes up from his work, he caught the angel staring.

The rest of the afternoon was much the same. Dean was alone in the break room eating when the tones sounded over his radio. He jumped up immediately. "We gotta go!" he called to the team, stuffing the rest of the fully loaded burger into his mouth as he rushed towards the ambulance. He would probably regret eating that so fast with the heartburn later.

"Is it a sure one?" Sam called, pulling on his coat while Castiel opened the back of the rig and climbed in.

"I think so this time," Benny answered, running by to the driver's side. They'd let Dean drive once because he was faster, but then they'd learned that angels could actually get motion sickness, so Benny was DD for the time being.

Despite the small hiccups in the past two weeks, Dean was proud of the team they'd become. Sam had streamlined everything inside the vehicle so that moving around to grab supplies was efficient and natural. Castiel finally didn't always act like he was about to break something, and his angel senses certainly paid big dividends. Bobby hadn't been lying when he'd said that this job was going to be far more dangerous than just normal supernatural response units. They'd each had their own tussles and scrapes, nothing they couldn't handle, but the calls tended to require a police presence more often than not. When push came to shove, they were an excellent team.

"What's it this time?" Benny asked as he turned on the GPS.

"Not sure," Dean answered. "Charlie wasn't too clear about it. Don't think she really knows."

"Great," Sam deadpanned from the back where he was scrambling to finish the restocking with Castiel on the fly. "That never works well for us."

"Don't be a pessimist," Dean answered. "We've been doing great work."

"I'd just prefer not to get smacked around by some mystery call," Sam said. He yawned and paused his restocking to chug the rest of his lukewarm coffee. They'd been run back and forth quite a bit in the past week. Castiel suspected that Zachariah and Raphael had started to glean their plans. Thus, for every person they saved, the angels attempted to take two more. It was wearing them all down. But they were still making a dent.

The GPS directed them to a huge fallow field in the middle of nowhere. Not the most promising start, though it appeared, both fortunately and unfortunately, that the biggest calls weren't in populated areas. Dean clicked over the radio. "What's the news, Bobby?" The police weren't there yet, so they stayed in the rig, looking every direction. They saw nothing.

"Charlie just says there's been a disturbance registered there. Nothing else. Looks fishy, but it might be nothing."

"I hope it's nothing," Sam murmured. "I vote for nothing."

"Me, too," Dean said. He tapped the radio again. "Advise, Bobby. We got nothing here. Jody and Donna are a no-show, too."

"They're fifteen out. You got enough firepower on your own. If it's anything. We think it's another portal opening."

"Roger." He turned his gaze to Benny. "I don't like this."

"Me, either."

Something sick twisted in Dean's gut. It was too still out here. Too much of a pretty day without a hint of _anything_. Either Charlie had been wrong, or the bad guys were trying extra hard to hide what was going on. Or it was a trap. _Jesus, don't think about that shit._ Do the job. "What's the word, Cas?"

The angel stood. "I'll be back." 

Dean grabbed his arm. Castiel turned to him, startled. Dean opened his mouth. Shut it again. Shook his head wryly. "Be careful, okay? Something's weird about this."

Castiel pressed Dean's hand briefly. "Thank you." He opened the back of the rig and with a flash of blue, disappeared from sight.

"Set your watches," Sam said. They all glanced down at their wrists. The rule was that Castiel had five minutes before reporting back. If he wasn't there, the rest came in, figurative guns blazing. Except with Jody and Donna and Jo. Those guns were usually literal. They kept their focus on the field, brown grass and a copse of trees grown too high for them to see through, straining to catch a sound or flash of movement from anywhere.

Dean leaned against the side of the rig, kicking his heel against the back tire. Sam and Benny had grown accustomed to his anxious ritual while waiting for Castiel to reappear, and thus let it go. They'd called him out on his fidgeting that always carried on until Castiel was safe, and Dean had given them a dressing down which no one had believed.

Five minutes came. The timer on Dean's watch beeped. Then Sam's. Then Benny's.

Five minutes went.

It wasn't right. They'd _said_ five minutes because Castiel never took more than three. Never. The whole wrongness of the call added up more and more. They didn't have any contingencies for what to do if Castiel didn't come back and Jody and Donna weren't there. They probably should have thought about that. They couldn't wait. Cas wasn't back and that never happened. They didn't have ten more minutes to wait for the cavalry.

Dean swung around and opened the side hatches to grab his kit, plus the extras. "Get everything you got," he demanded, voice tight.

They pulled their bags from the rig quickly and pushed through the undergrowth as fast as they could. They'd barely made it fifty yards when they found the clearing. Dean's first wild thought was that aliens had been there. The withered corn stalks were all pressed down in actual crop circle formation; perfectly round near the copse of trees. Castiel was in the middle, on his knees, wings spread wide and slumped over the ground. A ring of unnatural fire surrounded him, burning hotly, but not destroying any of the corn stalks that it touched. Another angel hovered above Castiel, angel blade glinting in the setting sun. Dean moved before he'd even fully processed the scene.

" _Hey_!" he yelled, running forward. He felt Sam's hand swipe his jacket, but his brother wasn't quick enough to stop him. "Get the fuck away from him!"

The angel turned towards Dean with a wicked smile on his face, and Castiel's wings jolted, snapping out, almost brushing the edge of the fire as he called hoarsely, " _stay back, Dean_!"

No. No, he couldn't do that. He just couldn't. He was pretty good at convincing himself that it was because he was a paramedic and Castiel was in there _bleeding_ and _hurt_ , but it was more than that. For the last two weeks it had become more than that. He couldn't. He _couldn't_. But as he rushed forward, the other angel touched down lightly on the ground, putting himself between Dean and Castiel. "Dean Winchester," he said with venom.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean spat. "What'd you do to Cas?"

"I suppose we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Zachariah."

At that announcement, Sam and Benny caught up and yanked Dean back several steps. "Jesus," Sam whispered close to Dean's ear.

For a split second, Dean had the urge to laugh. He took in the angel's black pinstriped suit, starched white shirt, shiny gray tie, and balding gray hair. A middle aged dad was Zachariah? In a flash, his mirth evaporated. Zachariah looked more like a pall bearer. Dean steeled himself. "You called us out here."

"Of course I did." He put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels and then stepped towards the group, completely at ease. "You've been very good, people, _very_ good. All playing your parts exactly as you should be."

"Bullshit," Benny bit. "You're just sayin' that shit 'cause we're fighting you and winning."

Zachariah laughed humorlessly. "Don't flatter yourselves. You hairless apes are nothing but a momentary distraction. A few souls not ending up where I put them is hardly an issue for me. No, You know why I brought you here, Sam. Dean."

"Because you think we're Lucifer and Michael's vessels," Sam sneered.

"Ain't gonna happen," Dean added.

"Oh, I think it will," Zachariah returned. There was a flash and the sudden feeling like the air was being sucked away. Before anyone could so much as blink, another angel stood beside Zachariah. He was dark skinned and dressed much the same as his counterparts. Why did they all look like accountants? Dean shook the thought away to refocus as Benny and Sam pulled him back a few more collective steps. Dean could see Castiel now behind Zachariah, and he looked to be in bad shape. His face was ruined, clearly not healing normally from a gash on his forehead, black eye, and split lip. He was still hunched forward on his knees, but Dean could make out a dark, leaking stain on the front of his shirt. More blood. The shine of Castiel's angel blade shown beyond the ring of fire where he couldn't reach it. Castiel bent forward until his forehead touched the ground, hands pressing against the wound on his chest. In that moment, Dean knew they were fucked.

"You're late, Raphael," Zachariah said distastefully.

"I was busy," he replied airily. "You appear to have things well in hand with the rogue angel and the vessels. Plus..." he eyed Benny critically. "A vampire?"

"It doesn't matter," Zachariah snapped. "Did you bring it?"

Rolling his eyes, Raphael removed a glass vial from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He handed it to Zachariah, who smiled wide. "Wonderful. Now we can get this show on the road."

He snapped his fingers and suddenly the most horrific pain imaginable shot through Dean's skull. He barely even registered his knees hitting the ground as he grabbed a the sides of his head, covering his ears. He knew the screeching wasn't coming from without, but he clenched tighter anyway, digging his fingers into his scalp. His vision swam with blackness, close to making him pass out. He couldn't even lift his head to see what was happening. His panic made it all ten times worse as he slipped to his side, gasping and trying to stay conscious. Vaguely he heard Sam and Benny moaning. Fuck, what were the angels _doing_ to them?

Zachariah's perfectly shined shoes came close. Dean cringed, but the angel didn't touch him. 

"It never fails to amaze me how much humans try to fight so pointlessly against their destiny," he said conversationally. "God created you, and now He demands your obedience. You will submit." Zachariah moved to the side towards Sam. 

_No. No, no, no! Not Sammy. Please not Sammy!_ Dean slammed one hand on the ground, squeezing his fingers into the dried husks. It took all of his willpower to open his mouth. "Sam," he gasped. 

A hand grabbed his ankle. "Dean, get-" Whatever Sam was going to say didn't make it any further. He cried out sharply, the sound cutting off into a low groan.

It took more strength than he though he had to fight the roiling, throbbing pain and not just curl into the fetal position, but Dean fought the wave of vertigo, turned his head, and saw Sam on his back. Zachariah stood above him, one gleaming dress shoe digging into Sam's sternum. "The hell are you doing?" he managed to grind out.

Without moving his eyes from Sam's prone form, Zachariah uncapped the bottle and knelt down, transferring his weight to his shin to keep Sam pinned. "It's time for you to join the big league, Sam Winchester." He grabbed Sam's chin, fingers tight on the bolt of his jaw to force his mouth open. He upended the bottle's contents directly into Sam's mouth.

Sam tried to spit it out, but the thick, red liquid slid down his throat, making him cough and swallow convulsively. Zachariah's biting grin twisted.

Dean couldn't even scream. He reached for Sam with limbs that felt weighted down with lead, but Raphael met him, kicking him over onto his back. He couldn't move. He _couldn't fucking move_. 

A gravelly voice carried over the space. "Dean," Castiel said. "Sam."

Slowly, Dean focused his burning eyes on Castiel. He couldn't understand what he was seeing. Castiel was facing them. His shirt was torn open. And on his chest... some sort of sigil? Dean had no idea what it meant, but he memorized it automatically, as he always did. "Cas... what..." Castiel had carved a sigil into his own flesh. What the hell?

The look on Castiel's face when blue eyes met green, nearly crushed him worse than the pain in his head. The angel's face crumbled and he said, "I tried to be faster. I'm sorry." Dean watched in horror as Castiel braced his hand on his chest over the center of the sigil.

The world around them exploded in light. Dean was sure he screamed this time. He was sure they were all about to die, but then they didn't. The pain suddenly disappeared. The light. The sound. Castiel. Raphael. Zachariah.

"Sam!" Benny's distress brought Dean around, scrambling up to his brother. 

Sam rolled to his side, clutching his chest, moaning. "Fuck," he breathed.

"What happened?" Benny demanded, going fully into paramedic mode, checking Sam's vitals while Dean rushed to find his discarded kit. 

"I don't know," Dean answered, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "The hell was in that bottle?"

"Don't know. Poison of some kind?" He swabbed Sam's chin where some of the liquid had dripped out from between his lips. He sniffed the swab before securing it in a specimen tube. "Smells like blood."

"Stay on your side, Sammy. Can you talk?"

"Fuck," Sam wheezed again. 

"Good enough," Dean said grimly. "Benny, can you get the rig back here?"

"Damn right I can." He jumped up and sprinted back towards the road. Dean marveled that his legs were steady enough to do that. He felt like a newborn calf.

"Hang in there, Sammy," Dean said, digging through his bag for any sort of anti-venom or antidote that wouldn't just kill his brother faster. "Goddammit, what did those assholes do?! I can fix this." He breathed in. Held it. Breathed out. "We'll fix this."

Sam began to shake. Then seize. Dean cursed. As he situated Sam not to injure himself, he muttered, "easy there, Sammy. Easy." His heart pounded behind his ribs until his hands shook too much to be of any use. He knew his words didn't make any difference, but it helped him somewhat. Luckily, the seizure wasn't particularly violent. Sam's limbs twitched weakly, Dean making sure that nothing was constricting his movement.

Thankfully, Benny had the ambulance to them in no time. He managed to muscle the gurney out of the back by himself. "You're driving," he said evenly. "You should probably quit trying to help when you're shaking like a leaf in the wind."

They carefully hefted Sam onto the stretcher and pushed him to the back of the ambulance. He began to calm as they secured him and Dean took the driver's seat, breaking every speed limit on the way to the hospital. He picked up the radio. "Dispatch, be advised, Raphael and Zachariah showed themselves." His steady voice surprised him. 

Charlie sounded far less calm. "Bobby's listening. What happened?"

"Meet us in the ER. Sam's been exposed to something, and it's bad. Castiel was injured and he... I dunno." He swallowed hard. "He did something; cast a banishing spell or something, and he was gone. Took Zach and Raph with him."

"We'll meet you downstairs," Bobby said shortly.

xXx

Waiting for the test results to come back was a nightmare. He'd been assured that they were being rushed as much as possible, but it felt like an eternity. He'd had time to give his report to Jody and Bobby, log the hours, and let his ass go numb in the uncomfortable chair in the private room, waiting and waiting while Sam slept. Off and on he wished that Castiel and his oddly calming presence was there with him. Everything was so fucked up that he couldn't even begin to process it fully.

A gentle knock on the open door startled him out of dosing. "Meg," he said quietly.

"Hey," she answered, just as softly. "Got the results. Dean..." Her face scrunched.

"Just tell me," Dean said wearily, though he felt his heart stutter.

Meg handed him the chart. "It was demon blood."

Dean grabbed the chart and flipped through it rapidly while Meg went to the IV, removed a syringe from her front pocket, and injected detox medication into the port. Dean tossed the chart onto the bedside table. "Demon blood? The hell does that do to an adult?"

She shrugged, sitting on the foot of Sam's bed carefully so as not to wake him. "Usually nothing just by itself. But, when you and Sam were exposed as kids and got your... gifts... well, he's sensitive to it."

"What does that mean?" Dean snapped. "Quit it with the sugarcoating. It's not your style."

Rather than looking offended, Meg's expression eased to relief. "It's like a toxin. Or a drug, in Sam's case. Not sure if anything _physically_ will happen to him, but Bobby has a theory about why Zachariah exposed him."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's about being Lucifer's vessel."

"Yeah," she answered pointedly. "Something about the demon blood might make him more suited to be the vessel."

Rolling his eyes, Dean said, "it's not gonna make him evil."

She shrugged again. "No, but it might stain his soul just enough to be suitable."

"Shit," Dean breathed. "There's gotta be a way to... fuck, I dunno. Something I can do to get him back to normal."

"It'll leave his system," Meg assured him.

"Not like that. I mean, if his soul's getting dirty, there has to be a way to cleanse it. Like... confession? Does that even work?"

"Absolution of sins has an effect," Meg confirmed, though her lips curled to say it. "Why don't you ask your angel? Where is he, anyway?"

Dean heaved a sigh. "Your guess is as good as mine. He did something that made him and Zachariah and Raphael disappear. Probably to save us. I hope he's not dead or something." He hadn't had time to consider that before, but the thought turned his stomach. Castiel couldn't be _dead_. Right? No, way. They _needed_ him. He wouldn't go down before their work was done, right? Surely. Unless he'd stopped the whole thing by taking the others with him. _No. Shut that down, Dean. It's not possible._

Meg's eyes sharpened. "What did he do?"

Dean circled his hand over his chest, vaguely tracing the symbols out with his finger. "He carved a symbol into his chest," he answered, feeling his blood running cold as the seed of Castiel's demise was planted in his head. "Then he put his hand over it and there was a huge flash of light, and the angels were gone."

"A blood sigil. To banish angels. Ballsy." She sounded impressed.

"You know about them?" He resisted leaping out of his seat to shake the answer out quicker. "What did he do, Meg? Is he gonna be okay?"

She waved a disinterested hand. "Sure. That sort of thing only banishes things to where they came from for a while. It doesn't kill them."

His shoulders sagged with relief for the first time in hours. "Damn, that's good news."

She smiled. "Glad to help." She stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of her scrubs. "Anyway, Sam should wake up soon. He'll be groggy from the detox for a while, but he'll probably be discharged tomorrow with a prescription for extra detox meds. Might want to keep him out of the field for a few days until he's better. Or longer if Zachariah's gonna pull that shit again."

"I know. I'll talk to him when he wakes up. Thanks, Meg."

"Any time," she said. She squeezed his arm. "He'll be okay, Dean. So will Clarence. Just have a little faith."

"That sounds weird coming from you."

She laughed. "Yeah, well, people seem to like it around here when I act supportive. See ya." She closed the door behind her and Dean moved from the chair to the sofa further away from the bed. Knowing that Sam would get back to rights and Castiel would probably be back, allowed the tension to leave his body enough to drift to sleep. He slept until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ruin everything! *jazz hands*


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam find Castiel.

Castiel didn't know exactly where he was, though it was still on Earth. He could smell it. The loamy scent of wet ground and beautiful, dormant growing things. He wasn't used to being in this much pain. It felt like his body had been ripped apart and put back together again. It might have been. He had no idea how long he'd been hovering in the ether before returning to Earth. It could have been hours. Might have been days. All he could be certain of was that his vessel was empty now. James Novak had gone. Castiel didn't know how to pray, but he _hoped_ fervently that the man's pious soul had made it to Heaven. If not... it was another thing that fueled his resolve to end Zachariah and Raphael's reign. "Our Father, who art not in Heaven," he slurred. "Your children suffer and You do nothing... That really sucks."

He groaned and cracked his eyes open to stare up at the night sky blanketed with stars. The constellation construction put him in North America. That was something. Maybe it wouldn't take him long to find Sam and Dean again. He just needed a bit more rest to heal. He hurt. Everything _hurt_. His eyes drifted shut. He didn't bother to fight the consciousness or the unconsciousness. He got swept up on it and let it ebb and flow. Time moved and he didn't feel it. Didn't need to. The sun came up and cast a cold light as it crawled across the horizon. The days were still short. The stars returned. Castiel drifted on.

The sun was starting to rise again when the first sounds reached him. He thought he might have actually been asleep, something he'd never experienced before, when his eyes opened again. He felt... _Dean_. Dean was near. He was shouting. Dean was scared.

"It's him! Sam, it's him! _Cas_! Cas, man, wake up! Holy _shit_! Cas, are you okay?" Heavy boots squelched in the wet earth close to him.

Castiel's vision was filled with _Dean_. His hair was a mess, plaid shirt dirty, bags under his eyes. It brought out the first real emotions he'd had since he'd closed his eyes before. He felt like he was home. "Hello, Dean." His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Suddenly the sky lurched as Castiel was pulled into a sitting position. Into Dean's arms. Dean's face pressed against his shoulder, his nose freezing cold, but his breath hot in the dip of his collarbone. His voice was tight and Castiel's heart burned. "Thought I lost you." His cold nose squeezed harder in and Castiel wasn't sure what he should be doing, though wrapping his arms around Dean seemed to be the right response. The paramedic sagged against his chest. "I looked for four days. That was a fucking stupid stunt to pull." His fists knocked against Castiel's back, chiding but not hard.

Castiel closed his eyes because Dean had. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never wanted to leave you."

Dean shifted on the muddy ground. His hands slid up Castiel's arms to the base of his neck. His fingers were colder than his nose. He scrubbed his face on the angel's shoulder and then pressed their foreheads together and Castiel felt a distant sense of penance in the gesture. "Don't do that shit again. I need you in this, Cas, okay?"

The grip on the back of Castiel's neck wasn't confining enough that he couldn't lean back slightly to see the human's face. Dean's hands dropped heavily to his sides and Castiel's heart broke again with how wet Dean's eyelashes looked. But his cheeks were dry when Castiel's hands moved to touch the paramedic's face, thumbs stroking over his stubbled cheeks. "I promise," he murmured.

Dean's head tilted up minutely. His lips parted as far as his clenched teeth would allow. The light in his eyes both froze Castiel and scorched him. He _knew what this was_. Dean was asking him for an intimate human gesture. One that would prove his affection and his inability to 'pull that shit again.' It was a _gift_. Castiel swallowed hard and tucked his chin down slowly. He'd waited millennia to kiss Dean Winchester.

Sam Winchester, however, hadn't considered that. "Cas!" he called, relieved, skidding down beside them. "It's you!"

The spell was broken, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to be truly upset about it for the moment. "Sam," he said. The relief was instantaneous. "You're all right. I'm so glad."

"Detoxing from demon blood. I'll be fine." He and Dean gently helped the angel to his feet. 

His whole body protested the movements. He'd never felt the sort of bone weariness he was experiencing right then. He leaned heavily on both of the brothers. "You need to go to the hospital," Sam said as he guided them towards the road. 

Castiel blinked and suddenly realized that he'd reappeared only a handful of miles from the bunker. A slight wave of guilt over cursing God washed over him. He could have been left much further away. "I don't want to go to the hospital," he said. "Please."

He saw Dean glance behind him to share a look with Sam. They made it back to the Impala before Dean said, "fine, but you're gonna let us check you out at home and take you in if we need to."

"Fine," Castiel answered, slipping into the back seat and immediately laying down. The exhaustion was intense. He dozed off again on the drive home.

xXx

Dean and Sam literally had to carry the angel into the bunker between the two of them. "We should've taken him to the hospital," he said to Sam.

"You're only saying that 'cause he's so damn heavy," Sam grunted. He kicked open Castiel's bedroom door and readjusted the angel's legs to get through the doorway without dropping him. They maneuvered him onto the bed without jostling him too much, then Sam ran out to grab his medical bag. Dean sat on the edge of the mattress, gaze raking over Castiel's prone form.

"What the hell," he muttered. "Fucking stupid, Cas." He brushed his fingers through the angel's coarse, dark hair, pushing the matted mess off of his forehead. "Really fucking stupid." He should call Bobby, Benny, Pamela, Charlie. Let them all know that Castiel was back. But... not just yet. He was afraid that if he did, it would make it all real. "Angels aren't supposed to sleep."

"He's been through a lot," Sam said as he reentered the room and sat down next to the bed. "He's not healing himself properly. Get his shirt off."

Dean grimaced and felt an uncomfortable twinge in his jeans. "Why?"

"You want _me_ to?" Sam asked pointedly. The corner of his lips tipped up. Asshole.

"Asshole," Dean said. Castiel was a dead weight, but his limbs were loose enough that the trench coat came off easily. Dean folded it carefully, as dirty as it was, and placed it on the bedside table. Sam watched without comment. He'd seen what had almost happened... well, _before_. He knew to keep his damn mouth shut. Castiel's shirt was still mostly ruined, anyway. Dean worked the buttons out of the cuffs and his fingers brushed against something cold. He pushed the sleeve up over Castiel's left wrist. "Shit," he whispered. Every inch of the angel was covered in sweat, blood, and dirt. But the green friendship bracelet was as clean as when Dean had tied it around Castiel's wrist.

"Dean," Sam said in his most sympathetic brotherly voice.

Dean shook his head. "I dunno, Sammy," he said. It was the most honest thing he could manage. He removed the ruined shirt and tossed it on the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at the still-raw sigil carved into Castiel's flesh for too long. The twisting pressure in his chest made it hard to breathe.

He was eternally grateful when Sam seemed to understand and said, "I'll check him out. You wanna go get the sterile supplies to clean him up with?"

"Yeah, I can do that." He went to the supply room and grabbed sterile wipes, supplies for sutures, if needed, his emergency kit, and then to the bathroom for warm water and washcloths. 

When he got back, Sam was finishing taking Castiel's vitals and had stripped the angel down to his boxers. "What's the word?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Same-ish as when we did a baseline a few weeks ago. So, I guess he'll be fine? Still kinda hard to tell with an angel. He's starting to heal, at least."

Dean opened a pack of the antiseptic wipes and started cleaning the worst of the scrapes and wounds first. The sigil covered Castiel's entire trunk from chest to belly. "Looks infected," he muttered, gently rubbing around the jagged edges. "He got a fever?"

"I think so," Sam answered, holding his hands out for the bowl of warm water and washcloths, cleaning the dirt and grime. "The baseline says angels run hot anyway, but he almost broke the thermometer." He cleared away the dirt on the other side of the sigil, and then, finding no more serious wounds, packed up his bag. "We should take shifts watching him tonight until he wakes up."

"It's fine. I'll be here," Dean answered automatically, not taking his eyes off of his work where he had finished cleaning off the sigil. Just as Sam had said, it was starting heal, albeit slowly. He took the basin and washcloths from his brother.

"You need sleep," Sam pointed out unnecessarily. "How many hours have you had in the last four days?"

"Not enough, I get it," Dean mumbled petulantly. "I'm still staying here tonight. Cas needs me."

Sam dithered by the door, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught his stern expression. He braced for an argument, but after a pause, Sam's shoulders slumped and his face relaxed. "I understand. I'll call Bobby and the others and let them know what happened."

"Thanks," Dean said, distractedly. Sam closed the door quietly behind him.

He took his time washing Castiel off. On the one hand, it was necessary to check for other bruises and scrapes, but he would have been lying to himself if he said he didn't sort of enjoy seeing the angel spread out, wounded or not. His skin was warm and firm, the vessel obviously athletic when he'd been human. Probably a runner. Dean took his time wiping the soapy cloth down Castiel's arm from shoulder to inner arm to hand, cleaning carefully between all the fingers. He followed each part with a towel so Castiel didn't get chilled. He only left to go to the bathroom and replace the water and washcloths. Then he was back at Castiel's side, washing his legs, feet, the rest of his torso. 

He twisted a clean washcloth of water and hovered over Castiel's face. He might have been in pain and sick, but his face was still relaxed in sleep. Clear of all the worry that Dean had started to think of as his default expression, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Gently, he placed the washcloth on Castiel's forehead, swiping to ears. Down his cheeks. Remarkable nose. Distinct chin. Strong neck. He sighed a little. By the end of it, Dean's cheeks were burning and his lungs felt useless. 

Naturally, he _could_ have simply rolled the angel over on his side in order to wash his back and finish, but the indulgence was a bit too much to resist. Dean put his hands under Castiel's armpits and raised him up until he was resting against Dean's chest, head flopped over on his shoulder. The angel snorted in his sleep softly, earning a silent chuckle from the human. "Angels snore, huh? Good to know." 

It shouldn't have felt so good to touch him, however innocently, but it did. Dean cleaned the angel's shoulders, pausing briefly when his fingers ran over more pronounced bumps near his shoulder blades. Huh. He pressed his fingers in gently, feeling over the bump. With a small start he realized that it must have been where Castiel's wing joints were. After a moment of probing curiously over the spots, Castiel moaned lightly.

"Cas?" Dean asked softly.

" _Hn,_ " he replied. He shifted just slightly, but only to curl himself against Dean more.

"Just getting you cleaned up a little bit."

Castiel sighed and Dean smiled. He finished cleaning away the grime, but before he could lay the angel back down, Castiel slumped forward more, adding dead weight to Dean's chest. "Warm," he murmured.

_That_ much was true. It had been a damn long time since he'd felt the sort of comfort and calm arousal that he did holding on to Castiel. The angel breathed steadily against him and Dean automatically counted his respirations, mostly to distract him enough to keep from reacting embarrassingly to their situation. He cleared his throat a little. "Do you need anything?"

Castiel's head moved in what might have been a negative. "Was I sleeping?" His voice was thin and slurred.

"Dunno," Dean answered. "But you were definitely unconscious. Were you dreaming?"

"Maybe. I saw your face."

"You were awake-ish when we found you." Now that Castiel was shifting around and talking, Dean's body was much more inclined to respond to the closeness. He was hot and tingled where they touched. It was almost overwhelming, especially with the bassy rumble of Castiel's voice directly against his chest. He was acutely aware that he'd almost kissed the angel before. He'd wanted to. Not just because of the relief at finding him. The past couple of weeks had shown him that, maybe not all angels, but at least one in particular, was devoted and fearless. It made him cling tighter. He didn't know what to _do_ with everything bubbling up so insistently. He couldn't even define all of the emotions. Just that they swelled with each second that passed with them in this position. He swallowed twice before he was able to ask, "will you be okay, Cas?"

"Yes," came the muffled answer. "It's curious, but my physical proximity to you appears to be helping. Your soul is... soothing."

That was probably the strangest compliment he'd ever received. But it made the heat inside him pulse brighter with pleasure. He felt warm to the top of his head.

Castiel sighed again, turning his face inwards to Dean's neck.

Dean's hands couldn't help but feather down over Castiel's arms. "Did you, like... _feel_ that just now? From my soul?"

"Yes."

Was that supposed to weird him out? It didn't. It was probably a loaded question, but despite however ill-advised it was, he asked, "what's it like? Can you read my mind or something?"

Castiel's stubble scraped lightly against his skin. "I suppose I could if I tried. It takes a lot of focus, even with another angel. I couldn't do it on purpose, and I'm fairly certain that you would realize it if I had. We mostly just hear prayers. Even ones that are buried deeply." His voice was growing stronger and stronger. Dean could feel the angel's muscles begin to strengthen to support his own weight. He began to draw back from the paramedic, though only enough so that his face wasn't smashed into Dean's collarbone. He readjusted himself to sit cross legged on the bed, keeping their hands joined, and Dean was suddenly struck with how intimate it felt simply holding his hands. Castiel's thumbs stroked absently over his knuckles and it made him feel vulnerable in a way that surprised him with how nice it was.

"Pretty sure you wouldn't wanna know a lot of my thoughts," Dean joked weakly, trying to brush off the growing temptation. 

Castiel tilted his head slightly and leaned forward increasingly into Dean's personal space again. "Pretty sure I would," he challenged. 

A small huff of disbelieving laughter followed the pronouncement and Dean struggled to refocus elsewhere before he lost his mind and let Castiel know _exactly_ what he was thinking. "You really are starting to heal faster," he said instead. Then he unconsciously released the angel's hands to reach out and put his fingers over the almost-healed sigil scar. It looked weeks old now. Castiel's muscles jumped. Dean pressed his whole palm down directly in the center of the angel's chest. 

This time, Castiel's sigh sounded more like a breathy moan. But just as Dean had figured, the wound healed even faster, scar tissue fading before his eyes. "Can any human do this?" he asked with trepidation.

"No," Castiel answered shortly. "It's only with those souls with whom the angel feels... a more profound bond." Dean looked up and Castiel's eyes were dark and wide, wondering. He sucked in a ragged breath. "We _can_ achieve similar results if we touch any soul directly, but that's dangerous for an angel, and painful for the human."

"This isn't painful," Dean murmured.

Castiel's empty hand came up to cover his. "No, it's not," he agreed quietly.

And just like that, Castiel's millennia of waiting were over. Dean kissed holding nothing back. He didn't press for more, either. Mostly because Dean felt like the kiss had just electrocuted his entire _being_. Probably all the way down to his soul. It was almost like his brain short circuited and he could barely register it for a second. For a moment it was only, _mouth, soft, face, dream_? There had been good kissers in his past. Excellent ones. Instructive ones. Terrible ones. Then there was Castiel.

Castiel clearly had no idea what he was doing. He seemed to understand the mechanics of kissing, but little else. It was endearing and Dean wanted to laugh about it, but for the first thing, he didn't want to give the angel the wrong impression. For the second thing, he was kind of horny and _really_ enjoying the way that his lips felt over Castiel's. For what it was worth, Castiel let Dean lead the way the entire time. When his hands stroked over the angel's cheeks, applying gentle pressure to move him, Castiel tilted his head agreeably. They remained like that; chaste and just _experiencing_ it for a long minute. Then Castiel grew bolder and touched the back of Dean's neck, sweeping his hand upwards to sift his fingers over the soft buzz and through the short brown strands, molding his palm to the back of his head.

Dean responded by pushing his body weight forward and probing his tongue past the seam of Castiel's lips.

The angel opened his mouth on a gasp that Dean sucked away.

Then it seemed like it was every man overboard. Castiel made a small noise in the back of his throat that Dean was helpless to resist. He chased it, delving deeper into Castiel's mouth while the angel did his best to follow. Nothing but their lips touched, both of them still sitting cross legged facing each other, but Dean for one, had never felt a total body immersion of desire with so little contact.

Not for nothing, either. Castiel was every bit an enthusiastic participant. He didn't seem to get hung up on embarrassment at his lack of experience like another adult might have. And he was a quick learner. He let Dean have at him long enough to learn the moves, and then it was _his_ tongue that dove forward to explore the human's mouth.

The vague guilt at getting a boner from an angel really only served to excite Dean further. He wanted to rip his own clothes off, but this was _Cas_. Dean's hands might have been wandering over firm muscles and taut skin, but the angel was still hanging onto his shoulders for dear life, blunt nails digging in. The pain wasn't significant, but enough to unfog Dean's brain long enough for him to finally end the kiss slowly and study Castiel's reaction. When their lips finally parted, he smiled at the way that Castiel's chin tilted towards him, chasing for another kiss.

"How was that?" Dean asked lightly. He glanced down pointedly at Castiel's chest.

The angel blinked, eyes glazed. Lips just a tiny bit swollen and wet. Dean thought it was an excellent look on him. Then blue eyes flicked away to where Dean indicated. "Oh," he said breathlessly. "I'm healed."

"Guess you weren't lying about the closeness thing, huh? How do you feel?"

Castiel touched the completely healed skin and then his lips. "I... I feel fine. That was... an effective treatment."

Dean arched an eyebrow in confusion. The fog in his brain refused to clear. "Was a what now?"

Castiel waved a hand between them. "You correctly surmised that intimate human contact with a soul such as yours would speed my healing further. Thank you. I feel much better now."

"Wait, that was... what?" He shook his head trying to clear it. Goddamn cobwebs for nothing. "No, hey. Cas, that was a kiss."

He wanted to kick himself with how attractive he found Castiel's face when his lips pulled down and his brows knit together. "Yes, I am aware of what a kiss is."

Running an agitated hand through his hair, Dean clarified, "I didn't kiss you to heal you, man. That was a bonus."

The confusion deepened. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

"Yeah, me either. Didn't think I'd have to _explain_ it." Dean slid from the bed and busied himself collecting the medical supplies and dirty washcloths for something to do before his sudden anxiety made him twitchy. He could _feel_ Castiel's eyes on him as he roamed around the small room with carefully controlled movements. The scrutiny made him itch. Irritated him until he had everything gathered and stepped to the door, swinging around before opening it. He tried to keep the irrational bite of his voice when he said, "humans don't kiss people - even angels - just to heal them or something. Do you know what kissing even _is_ to humans?"

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. "Of course I do. I said before; it's an act of human intimacy."

"You're saying the right words, but I'm getting the impression you don't understand them."

That drew the angel up short. His eyes widened briefly. Then his lips parted to say something that he shut his mouth on. Dean continued to stare until he tried again. "Humans kiss frequently in general affection for someone. They kiss their friends, children, parents, siblings."

"And?" Dean tapped his foot on the ground.

"And... their lovers," Castiel finished thinly.

"Exactly. Which one did you think you were to me, Cas? Americans don't tend to kiss their friends, and you sure as shit aren't related to me."

Castiel looked completely lost and almost sad. "Dean. I'm... I'm so sorry," he said, voice small.

Nudging open the door with his knee and gripping the supplies closely to him, Dean slid into the hallway. "You don't need to apologize. Thought we were on the same page. It was my fault."

Before the door could swing shut, Castiel jumped up and took a step towards it. He exclaimed in a rush, "I wanted to kiss you!"

Dean caught the door with his foot. Castiel didn't elaborate. "Why do I feel like there's a 'but' in there?"

Gaze cast to the floor, Castiel answered, "I hadn't thought of much beyond just wanting to do it."

Dean snorted. "Well, think about it, then. I'm not here to push you, Cas. But I also don't want to get hung up where I shouldn't be."

"I understand," Castiel agreed.

Dean removed his foot and let the door close.

xXx

Castiel thought about it. Then some more. Then even more until he had a fairly impressive headache. He truly did not understand everything that Dean had told him. He wasn't human and never had been. He'd been born an angel, had never visited Earth, and rarely even understood the needs in human prayers. He was a warrior and enforcer. Not a lower order who answered prayers or knew more about their ways and minds. He'd thought - foolishly it seemed - that his time with the Winchesters had given him much to study and learn. He'd thought he'd begun to understand. But then came Dean.

Most days, Castiel felt a significant bond of friendship with the paramedic. They talked a lot, yes, but they also sat in silence that became less and less awkward the longer that they continued their acquaintance. 

He ran his thumb over the green anti-possession charm on his wrist. He knew why he liked it so much now. Why he'd chosen it. Green always reminded him of Dean's eyes. It was a silly thing to do, but all shades led to comparison now. Grass darker except near sundown. Moss was duller except when it rained. The thoughts always came automatically and he indulged endlessly without remorse. It hadn't occurred to him that there might have been more to it. He hadn't been among humans long enough to understand - or sometimes even feel - a full range of emotions. Watching the green and gold in Dean's eyes was the strongest impulse he'd ever had that wasn't tied to ordered vengeance. 

The feelings didn't make sense. They were too complicated. They hurt and felt good at the same time. How was that even possible? Intellectually, he understood the complexity. He saw them every day in the people he encountered. He just hadn't expected the foaming miasma of "it's complicated" to be contagious to angels. 

He'd seen the hurt on Dean's face. But, unlike an angel, the emotion hadn't been pure. Clean. There had also been hope. Embarrassment. Defiance. Desire. And they weren't tangled strands that could be pulled apart and addressed one by one. If he pulled one color, the tapestry as a whole would become meaningless.

So, Castiel sat down on the bed and silently and thought some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that I've fallen into a horrible schedule. I have a broken wrist right now, so typing for long periods of time doesn't work so well. And considering that my day job is mostly typing, I don't have much left by the end of the day to give to writing. I'll do what I can, but healing is a priority right now. I appreciate your patience and continued support! I'll definitely keep writing what I can manage through my injury! :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean have a heart-to-heart. Gabriel and Balthazar throw their hats in the ring.

Dean should have been able to fall asleep, no problem. After all, he'd only had maybe eight or nine hours total in the past four days. His brain was fried, his body amped, and his emotions in a spiral. No one could process anything on too much coffee and too little sleep. He closed his eyes. Nothing. Just the buzzing, racing thoughts in his head. He could hear the slow ticking of the old wall clock. He counted two hundred before it pissed him off enough to roll out of the bed and go shower. That probably should have been first the priority since he couldn't remember when he'd last done that. Or changed his clothes. Whatever. He blamed it all on kissing Cas and tried to feel better about himself for that.

At least the shower didn't disappoint. Hot water beating down on his tense back with incredible pressure. He let himself groan with relief and slouch under the spray for several minutes before washing his hair and body twice. The physical grime went away a lot faster than the mental. It helped, though. He took his cue to get himself back into bed when he started dozing off under the spray.

He toweled off quickly, and dressed in fresh boxers and a plain white t-shirt. Back in his room he stumbled to his bed and collapsed face first onto the unmade sheets, carelessly yanking them up over his legs. His whole body finally relaxed, and for the first time in days, he felt the willing edges of sleep tugging at his conscious mind. 

Then came a soft knock on the open door.

"'f that's you, Sammy, 'munna kill ya," he mumbled, voice caught by the pillow.

"It's me," Castiel said.

Dean felt his shoulders bunch, but he didn't move. "'sup, Cas?" Normally, he would have even kicked an angel out of his room, but there was no point in postponing at least a small talk. Better to do it while he was punch-drunk on exhaustion than when he was well-rested. He wasn't good at examining feeling; he'd always known that about himself. Little else besides bone-weary tiredness could make him completely honest, and Castiel deserved at least that much if the situation turned out to be a mistake on Dean's part. 

The mattress dipped beside him, and Dean stayed still. He didn't even turn his head, keeping it mashed into his pillow. Safer that way. "I didn't mean to upset you," Castiel started.

"I know," Dean answered wearily. "Wasn't you, really. 's'mostly me."

Castiel's large hand felt almost painfully good on his lower back. "I have a lot to learn. I realize that now." His thumb drew absent circles around the divots at the bottom of Dean's spine and he tried desperately to keep his libido in check. _Focus on the words. Focus on the words._ "I captained an entire garrison that watched the Earth for ages. And yet I don't understand... I _do_ care for you, Dean. More than anyone. More than a simple friend, I think."

Against his better judgement, Dean turned his head. "'You _think_?'"

Castiel's gaze was unfocused, turned inward. "To most angels, emotions are usually quite easy. It's true that those of my rank don't question our orders, or even think to. But we _do_ have feelings. They're just... much less complicated. Funny things make us laugh. We have personal taste and preferences. We have friends that we confide in." His voice faded and Dean watched the angel struggle for explanation.

Dean rolled over onto his side and pushed up to a sitting position facing Castiel. He was nearly delirious with the need for sleep. He was also certain that it wouldn't be the restful kind until they'd hashed out what they could here. Crossing his legs he said quietly, "I get it. I mean, I sort of acted without thinking back there. It's like... you were _gone_. And none of us knew what had happened to you. Whether we'd ever see you again. Then you were _back_ , and Charlie saw the weird readings, so we ran out there. It was... I dunno." That was the best he could do. He scratched the back of his head. "I _missed_ you, man."

Very suddenly, Dean was jerked into Castiel's arms. He tumbled forward, flailing into Castiel's chest. Why did it feel so fucking good? Castiel was broad and strong and warmer than a human. "I didn't know how else to save you. I had to try. It was the only way to send Zachariah and Raphael back." He sounded rougher than usual.

Dean patted Castiel's back awkwardly, when what he really wanted to do was cling to him closer. "I know. If I could have done it, I would have. Seriously. I'm not angry at you for that. I'm just... I was just... just worried." Reluctantly, he pushed back a little bit. "How'd you do it, anyway? Where did Zach and Raph go? How come you're back?"

Castiel smiled a little at the rapid questions. "I'll tell you everything that I know after you've had some rest. But for now, to answer your questions, Zachariah and Raphael are back in Heaven. Hopefully for long enough that we can devise another plan. I don't know exactly how I ended up back here. Perhaps it's because I'm still locked out of Heaven. And I was able to do all of that because, despite appearances, I'm quite a powerful angel." He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Dean didn't think he was exaggerating even slightly. And he'd _kissed_ the guy. Holy shit.

Mouth suddenly dry, Dean said, "yeah, that... wow. Okay. Definitely something for tomorrow."

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, "Dean, I would like to kiss you again before I go back to my room."

Dean coughed. His head was spinning again. He couldn't say that they had much more clarity now than before, but at the very least, he was reasonably certain that Castiel wanted more from him than just the healing and the family bond, or whatever. "Sure," he said in a single exhalation of breath.

He wasn't really prepared for the tenderness with which Castiel approached him this time. The angel touched his neck gently, fingers spread over his pulse. The heady feeling returned as Dean rocked forward a little. Their eyes locked and Dean didn't even blink until Castiel was too close to see clearly. Then they kissed and the human tried very hard to forget that he was sinning - probably - with, not only an angel, but a self-proclaimed "very powerful" one. 

There was definitely _something_ that pulled at Dean when their lips touched. A spark that buried itself deep within him and threaded out back towards Castiel. Maybe it was his mind making up something to suit what he thought _should_ happen with an angel; maybe it was real and his soul was speaking with Castiel's grace similarly to when he helped heal him. He didn't want to think about it. That shit was just too scary with unknowns, and for the moment he preferred fooling himself into believing that the mouth on his and the careful weight of hands on his shoulders was just that of another man. It almost happened.

Then Castiel pulled back and Dean swam in blue for a second before drawing in a long breath. "You, uh..." he cut off to clear the hoarseness out of his voice. "Quick learner." He hoped the heated feeling in his face wasn't showing.

"It felt very good," Castiel answered with confidence. "I'm trying to understand, Dean. None of this is familiar to me. Before this..." he paused. When he continued, his voice was softer, reflecting. "When I led my garrison, I received my orders and I followed them. I knew my subordinates and the other leaders. I cared for many of them." He quickly refocused on Dean. "It was nothing like this."

"'S'okay, man," Dean assured him. "Not like I know what do with having a crush on a damn _angel_ , either. New waters and all that. Let's just... how 'bout we just take it as it goes for now, all right?"

Castiel smiled wanly. "That's very carefree, don't you think?"

Dean dipped his head down to capture Castiel's attention fully as the angel stared at their joined hands. When he did, Dean smirked. "Sometimes you gotta let go planning things out the ass and just let stuff just happen."

"Sounds dangerous."

"You mean fun."

Finally, Castiel laughed. "You are very strange, Dean Winchester."

"Right back at ya, Castiel."

They kissed smiling this time, and both Dean and Castiel admitted that it was a hell of a lot better this way. Neither made a move to deepen it as they let their lips learn the shape of the other's mouth and commit it to memory. By the time they pulled away by some unspoken agreement, Dean wasn't even hard since it hadn't been _that_ kind of a kiss. They'd shared the dangerous kind of kiss. But he was pretty sure he was looking at Castiel with the same spark he saw reflected back at him.

"Good night, Dean," Castiel said. He didn't move to leave.

"'Night, Cas," Dean answered. He didn't move, either. They stared at each other. A full minute passed. "I'm so tired that I don't think I can actually fall asleep," Dean finally admitted. "And I keep thinking if I do that you won't be here when I wake up again."

"I'll be here," Castiel assured him. Then he shifted slightly. "My grace... it's... I can use it to help you sleep."

Dean leaned away. "Like that thing you did to Sam in the hospital? No, thanks. I need to be able to wake up whenever."

"Not like with Sam. I'm not talking about putting you to sleep. I'm saying... it's hard to explain." He let go of Dean's hands and held his own palms up at chest level. "The way that your soul resonates with my grace, like how you heal me faster with little effort... I can probably make the connection go the other way. Not necessarily to heal you like I could have done when connected to Heaven, but perhaps my grace will have a calming effect on you."

Doubtfully, Dean said, "that doesn't sound so bad."

"I'd never hurt you, Dean."

"I know that."

"Then please trust me." He raised his hands an inch higher, drawing Dean's attention to them.

Dean lightly placed his palms against Castiel's, watching the angel closely the whole time. "Should you really be doing this?" he asked nervously. "I mean, you were kinda beaten up a few hours ago."

"I'm fully recovered now, I assure you." His eyes glowed with a blue-white light and Dean felt himself beginning to doze. Castiel's voice sounded far away when he said, "I hope you have pleasant dreams."

Dean slipped backwards. Castiel's hands tightened on his, pulling him back for one last kiss, and it was the last thing that the paramedic remembered as something warm, delicate, and soft feathered around his shoulders, gently guiding him down onto his back. Sleep came immediately.

xXx

He felt a bit strange about it, but Castiel couldn't make himself leave Dean's room immediately. He was captivated by the man's sleeping face. It was so... calm. Unlined. Unworried. Castiel was struck with the notion that Dean was _always_ worried about something when he was awake. He laughed like he hadn't a care in the world sometimes. But that wasn't the case, was it? He wondered how Dean was before they'd met. Castiel had done part of this; brought the weight of the world down on the paramedic's shoulders. He was so very sorry about that. But in the end, he believed that it was better the Winchester brothers knew what they were up against and allowed to make informed decisions about it. Lightly, Castiel raked his fingers through Dean's hair, partially to feel the soft texture, and partially to make sure that at least his dreams remained peaceful. He hadn't been lying when he'd said that he couldn't read anyone's mind without trying, but he could sense the emotions in there. He pressed his palm with a hint of pressure against Dean's head. Smiling slightly, he let a tiny amount of his grace leak out from the tips of his fingers to relax the man further. He deserved good dreams.

After several minutes, Castiel stood, pulled the covers up to Dean's shoulders, and went back to his own room. He turned on the television, but it was only for background noise. Silence didn't usually bother him in the slightest - he often preferred it for quiet reflection, but he'd grown accustomed to the noise on Earth. Even what humans defined as "silence" wasn't really. Planes, sirens, electricity. Castiel had thought that he'd never get used to it. Now it unnerved him if there was nothing.

Vaguely, the thought of true silence brought on the tug of a memory. _Floating in the ether. The silence had been heavy. So very heavy. He'd had to break it, so he'd spoken to Jimmy Novak. Apologized. Jimmy had asked where his soul was going. Castiel had been afraid to answer. But the light had gone towards Heaven and Castiel had pooled all of his energy - easy since that was all he'd been - to ensconce the devout soul and guide it to where it belonged. When it was done, he'd felt the emptiness. Or perhaps only been aware of it. Feeling was almost beyond him then._

 _He hadn't known how to put himself back together. Not into his true form, not into his vessel. It answered the question of what happened to banished angels who didn't make it back to Heaven. They became raw energy and celestial intent. He'd tried to force it all back together, but he'd felt his grace spreading thin like oil on water. It wouldn't solidify. His consciousness had begun to stretch with his grace, thinner and thinner. He wanted to go_ back _, but was less and less sure of where that was. It didn't hurt to dissipate like this. It was like letting go of a dragging weight piece by piece. Why had he even fought it? He really should stop fighting it..._

_A voice._

_Indistinct, but brilliant._

_At first there had just been colors. A phantom itch at the corner of the last part of Castiel's consciousness. A pulse of light. Green and gold and beautiful._

_It was reaching for his grace. But Castiel had no way to respond._

_He needed to connect with it. Somehow. It had to find him._ Find him. __

 _A delicate tendril of light sparked along his grace. He'd felt it. The oil on the water had recoiled. Not much, but enough to give the green sound. A bassy blur of noise. Not... music..._ talking. _That's what it was._

 _Castiel couldn't control it, but his grace seemed to know instinctively how to respond. It churned and heaved, rippling tiny waves that began to bring everything back towards the center. The gold-green followed with the chanting tone. Ah!_ Words _! He was feeling words! Human words!_

_A prayer._

_Reaching to him._

_Only to him._

__Why would anyone be praying to him _?_

_He didn't answer prayers. Rarely ever bothered to hear them._

_But that was..._ "Castiel." __

_That was his name._

_His grace roiled again, pitching itself together more. It wanted to_ hear _. It needed to._ He _needed to. It was getting easier to pull his grace to form. The seed was there, gathering, and it was growing. Growing and growing._

 __"Castiel. Cas, man where are you? We've been looking everywhere. Trying to find a sign, but we can't. You're not... man, you better not be dead, you hear me? You can't do that to me. You're part of this team. Part of this family. If you can hear me, I need to get your feathery ass back down here. Find me. I'm here. I'm waiting. Please, Cas. Don't be gone, okay? Come back to me." __

_Of course, Dean._

Then he'd opened his eyes to the sky above him. He knew he wasn't put back together again. He'd spent himself and extended to bring back his vessel. The one that Dean remembered. He didn't know how he'd made it back, but he had. And that was all that mattered. He'd thanked Dean. Thanked God, just in case. And now he was home.

Castiel smiled and turned up the volume on the TV, though not loud enough to disturb anyone. He liked it here.

xXx

Castiel was in the kitchen scooping coffee grounds when Dean finally shuffled into the war room, yawning and scratching his stubble. When his eyes met the angel's, he switched to rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey," he said shyly.

"Good morning," Castiel answered with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

The question made a slight blush darken Dean's face. "Yeah, really good. Thanks. How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Castiel answered.

Dean had expected the long, awkward silence, but it still made him cringe. What was he supposed to say? They'd kissed. More than once. Castiel had said he felt like he was "more than a friend." Then more kissing. Jesus, was he gonna go to Hell or something? Were there rules about this sort of thing?

"Hey, Cas," he started haltingly, "is-"

"'Morning!" Sam chirped, cutting his brother off, which pissed him off and relieved him. "You look much better today, Cas. You too, Dean, for what it's worth."

"I got actual sleep," Dean muttered, turning his attention to the fridge and grabbing the milk for his cereal.

"I'm completely healed," Castiel informed the younger Winchester. "What have I missed since I was gone?"

Sam shrugged while he poured himself a cup of orange juice. "Not much. Once you got rid of Zachariah and Raphael, things almost got back to normal. Charlie said the Armageddon readings were gone. The first one we picked up afterwards turned out to be you. It's been pretty quiet."

"That's pretty damning evidence," Dean added as he slouched at the table. "Those two asshole angels really are the source."

Castiel hummed thoughtfully. "It could also mean that they don't have many of my brothers and sisters on their side. No one to pick up their dirty work for them when they're away. I wondered about that."

"That's one benefit, then. Hopefully they won't go on a recruitment drive." The coffeemaker hissed its completed cycle. Sam grabbed the mugs and filled them. Adding cream and sugar to avoid looking at Castiel directly, he said carefully, "so, what were they planning with the demon blood? I did some research and even tried to summon Gabriel and Balthazar as a last resort for answers, but all I got was dial tone."

Sighing heavily, Castiel dropped himself into a chair next to Dean, across from Sam. "You and Dean were exposed to demon blood as children, correct?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Me more than Dean, though."

"With enough demon blood inside of you, you'd be the perfect vessel for Lucifer," Castiel explained.

Sam and Dean shared a look. "How much are we talking about?" Sam asked.

Castiel's brow furrowed. "A lot. Gallons, actually, if he had his way."

Sam shrugged. "Zachariah only got in a few drops."

"And you detoxed," Dean added.

"Well, yeah," Sam said, "but it's still there. You can only detox the side effects. It stays in your system. Even so, as a baby and a few days ago, I've collectively ingested _maybe_ an ounce?"

"A small amount will do to make you _suitable_ for Lucifer," Castiel admitted. "Though, it won't make you strong enough to defeat Michael or for Lucifer to possess you for very long without burning out your vessel."

Sam's face twisted. "Great."

"I'm sorry," Castiel rushed to say. "I didn't mean to-"

Cutting him off with a raised palm, Sam said, "it's not you. I'm just... this sucks, you know?"

"Agreed," Castiel said, mouth tight. "But for now, we can focus on what we know. And we have new information."

"How so?" Dean asked.

Castiel folded his hands on the table. "We know that Zachariah and Raphael can, in fact, come and go from Heaven at will, and that they are likely there after being banished. Since Charlie had no other strange readings except for my appearance, it stands to reason that they did not come back to Earth. I also know..." he hesitated for a moment. No, he couldn't be positive unless he visited Heaven himself to make sure...

"What is it, Cas?" Dean prompted.

He glanced up. "I'm almost certain that I can guide souls away from Purgatory and into Heaven, given the chance."

Both Sam and Dean's eyes widened. "You sure?" Dean asked. "I mean, that would be awesome if you really could."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

Castiel wrung his hands for a moment, looking regretful. "I... Jimmy, my vessel... the banishment. I didn't know it would... it killed him. Or released his soul when his vessel pulled apart. Either way, I saw it. And I made sure that I could guide him towards Heaven. I can't be entirely sure that he made it because I'm banned from entrance, but it _feels_ like he did." His expression was pained as if he didn't know whether he was explaining himself properly.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Sam shrugged. "Okay," Dean said gently. "We can work with that. What's the game plan?"

A voice from further down the room had the three of them vaulting to their feet, Castiel with his angel blade out, shielding the humans immediately. Gabriel said, "we got some ideas."

"Thanks for the summoning," Balthazar said dryly. "Sorry to be fashionably late. We were a little held up."

Castiel stood tensed and ready for a fight, though the two archangels remained passive, hands visible and looking for all the world that they didn't care about not being welcome.

"I tried to summon you days ago," Sam said sourly.

"Oh, I heard," Gabriel answered with a leer. "And believe me, pretty boy, I _dearly_ wanted to come on down, but the blackout in Heaven means no insies or outsies for anything. Unless you're sneaking around, natch."

"You were in Heaven?" Castiel demanded. "Why?"

"We're not joining Team Armageddon," Balthazar said with a frown. "Far from it. We were attempting to collect some intel for you."

"We're pretty good at recon," Gabriel grinned. His eyes never left Sam. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.

Dean stepped up right next to Castiel, though the angel stuck his arm out in front of him, preventing him from going further towards the archangels. "Something tells me you guys didn't risk yourselves going up there out of the kindness of your hearts," he snapped. "You reek of double agent."

"Hey," Gabriel protested with exaggerated offense. "That's unfair. Why in the hell would we want that? Told ya already, Bath and me wanna stay here on Earth. But it's no damn fun if it's all destroyed."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. Cas? Weigh in here."

"I don't believe them," he said shortly, eyes not leaving the pair of archangels.

Balthazar spread his hands wide. "Be that as it may, you need us. Trust us, don't trust us, fine. The fact remains that we want in."

"Just like that?" Sam asked disbelievingly.

"Of course," Balthazar said. "Admittedly, Zachariah and Raphael were good for a laugh for a bit, but they're very serious about this ending the world business, and are actually much better at it than anticipated."

Gabriel nodded, his face hardening. "We honestly didn't think they'd have the juice, but some of the other blowhards upstairs are on their side now. Not a lot, but enough to matter. Enough to make your lives a _lot_ more difficult. So, yeah. Teach us the secret handshake, or whatevs."

Dean shoved Castiel's arm out of the way, pushing forward several steps. "You know what I think? I think you're both opportunistic bastards!" He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Castiel. "That guy? He really went to bat for us. He's been giving us _actual_ help from the get-go. He's been here in the trenches beating this thing back since the beginning. Hell, he carved himself up just to save me and Sam. So if you wanna help, now's the time to put up because just coming in to give us bullshit progress reports ain't gonna cut it. You're not telling us anything we didn't already know."

Gabriel looked almost amused at Dean challenging him. Balthazar slightly more mutinous. "Take a breath for a moment," he deadpanned. "We didn't risk our cover to come here for nothing. While Cassie here was busy banishing the enemy back from whence they came, Gabriel and I happened to find the entrance to Purgatory that they've been using. You _are_ interested in that, yes?"

"Out with it," Dean bit.

"We can do you one better," Gabriel assured them. "We can show you. And yes, that means we'll come along for the ride."

Dean peered back at Castiel, who was staring hard at Balthazar. Neither of them so much as blinked for several tense seconds. 

More and more, Dean suspected a trap until some of the tension left Castiel's shoulders. He slipped his angel blade back into the sleeve of his trench coat. "We'll need some supplies. It's best to leave after dark."

Dean reeled. "You're gonna trust them, Cas? _These_ two?"

"No," Castiel answered decisively. "Not yet. But we should follow every lead." He turned his back to the archangels, as if unconcerned that they would do anything to make their lives even more difficult. 

Dean took three steps towards him and placed a hand on his arm. He pitched his voice low. "You sure?"

There was a dangerous glint in Castiel's sharp blue eyes when he said, "I'm sure. And if something happens, I'll push them into the void like I did with the others. I won't let anything happen to you or Sam."

"Yeah," Dean muttered mostly to himself as Castiel continued on his way towards the spell room. "That's _exactly_ the shit I'm worried about." But they had no other options than to prepare. So, that's precisely what Dean did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wrist is finally free of the brace! However, it's still really sore and I have to work on PT before pushing it too much. So, please remain patient for a little while longer. And THANK YOU sincerely for being so supportive and sticking with me while I've had to slow down writing lately. I really, really do appreciate it!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will learns the secrets of Zachariah and Raphael's plan.

In the intervening hours before nightfall, the angels gave the humans a crash course on the portals to Purgatory, such as it was with their limited knowledge. As it turned out, there were very few experts on the matter, and not many knew much beyond the human history books, and those only said that it was where many supernatural beings went when they died. Not very enlightening.

"The ritual to open a gate to Purgatory is deceptively simple," Balthazar explained once they had all finished their morning routines and gathered again in the war room. "All that's needed for the spell is a mixture of blood from a virgin and a Purgatory native. However, unless our brothers have found a way around it, portals can only be opened from this side during a lunar eclipse. Which means their next chance is tomorrow night."

Dean reentered the room from the kitchen with three fresh mugs of coffee. He bumped Castiel's shoulder lightly as he passed behind the angel to get his attention and Castiel reached out automatically to take his mug. As Dean slid into the chair next to him, he didn't miss the intrigued look that the archangels gave each other.

"No wonder they can open the gates at will every eclipse," Sam said, unaware of the unspoken conversation happening. Or at least immune to it. "I mean, if lunar eclipses only happen once or twice a year, they've probably been setting the whole thing up for who knows how long. All they have to do is keep the portals open. And Earth is crawling with both those types of blood."

"Not really," Gabriel countered. "When he says native, he means _native_ native. Someone who was born in Purgatory. Not beings who go there after they die. The blood of your run-of-the-mill vampire or werewolf won't cut it. You need something like a dragon."

"A _what_?" Dean exclaimed. "Dragons are real?"

"They were," Balthazar said. "They may all be extinct now."

"There's also the leviathan," Castiel added quietly.

All attention turned to him. Gabriel cleared his throat. "I wasn't gonna say because that's just crazy talk. Dragons would be better."

Dean's eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted up high on his forehead. "Seriously, how in the hell could a _dragon_ be the lesser of two evils here?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm guessing they're not the scaly monsters from movies that we're picturing?"

Balthazar tipped his chin in assent. "They probably look human. Or humanoid. Most monsters from Purgatory do."

Dean rested his elbows on the table, cupping the hot coffee mug between his hands. "So, like, do you have to _drain_ the monster completely for the spell, or will just bleeding it a little do?"

"Morbid question," Sam muttered.

"No, I'm just saying; if you have to actually kill the monster every time, then that'll limit how often Zach and Raph can do it, right? That'll give us something better to work with. Otherwise, we could assume they've got themselves a dragon or a leviathan, or whatever, and have locked it up for when they need more blood for the ritual."

"It's possible they could also have an alpha," Castiel mentioned. "Many of them wander Earth now, but most were probably born in Purgatory. The first of their kind."

Sam grimaced. "Those sound even worse than dragons."

"They are incredibly powerful," Castiel admitted. " Failing that, the only other beings who can freely enter Purgatory at will and guide humans there are reapers."

"Hell, no," Dean said. "No way. We're not messing with Death and his associates. Too risky."

"I agree," Gabriel said. "No sense in dying when ya don't need to. I think we ought to get a look at the portal our dear brothers have been hiding. Might see some clues."

Castiel said, "how would we go about this? We'll need to draw as little attention as possible."

"Recon only," Sam said with relief. "I like this plan already."

"Simple," Gabriel smiled. "We get there, we find cover, we wait, we watch. Boring as crap, but we need some answers before we decide on anything else."

Behind the lip of his cup, Sam snarked, "must be incredibly dangerous if _you're_ actually being practical."

Gabriel beamed at the younger Winchester. "I knew you had some life in you! A few more tugs, and that stick'll pop right out of your ass!"

"Must you?" Balthazar groaned. "Let's stay on task, shall we? So far, we know that Zachariah and Raphael are going to open the gate to Purgatory tomorrow night for the eclipse. Whether or not they have another method of opening it or keeping it open, doesn't matter. The one we've found hasn't yet been opened, so it requires an eclipse. There's no way around the initial ritual, I'm sure."

Sam propped his elbow onto the table, resting his chin against his fist. "Well, what about closing the one they've already opened?"

Balthazar shrugged. "We don't know exactly where it is. But perhaps with some more knowledge that we gain staking this new place out, may help us narrow down our search radius."

"I agree," Castiel said, when Dean looked ready to protest. He gently laid his hand on the human's knee under the table, and Dean tried his best not to press into it. That strange resonance he'd felt before washed over him again at the point of contact and he consciously had to bite back a sigh of contentment, schooling his face into a carefully neutral expression.

"It seems like a waste of time," Sam said, pulling Dean's attention back to the task.

"It's not," Castiel said. "We need as much information as we can possibly get. It would be unwise to run blindly into the unknown when this planet's future is in the balance. I'm certain that my brothers are playing with powers that they do not fully understand. Purgatory was never intended to be controlled by an outside source. If we don't understand it, either, we might inadvertently make the situation worse."

"Makes sense," Dean acquiesced as he stood from the table. Castiel shot him a questioning look as his hand slid off of his knee. Without meeting the angel's eyes, Dean went back to the kitchen to dump his cold coffee down the sink and refill it. But really, he needed to step away for a minute. He sort of knew where the conversation was headed, and he didn't like it at all. He could continue to go with the angels' plans without offering any bonus points, but Castiel was right. They needed to do everything they could to - at minimum - not make it worse.

"You're holding back in there," Sam said from the doorway.

Dean turned and rested his lower back against the counter. "Yeah."

Sam shrugged. "Don't you think it might help?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean huffed a small sound of frustration. "It will, yeah. But, I'm not gonna volunteer anyone to this nightmare, okay? It's one thing if it's us. We can't avoid this shit. Zach and Raph are coming after us no matter what. Everyone else has a choice and they damn well didn't volunteer to _go_ to Purgatory. Only to stop anyone else from going there."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam gently said, "is that really true, though? If Armageddon happens, no one will have a choice. No one'll have _anything_. You need to at least tell Cas. See what he has to say about it."

Dean abandoned his mug on the counter, now uninterested in the caffeine boost. "Fine." He stomped back to the war room. The angels were talking amongst themselves, effectively ignoring Dean until he said, "Cards on the table so I can at least do my part to avoid the end of fucking everything. I know someone who can tell us anything we want to know about how Purgatory works from the inside."

That certainly got their quick attention. Balthazar and Gabriel looked expectant and wary. Castiel looked confused, as if he was processing a Rolodex of Dean's acquaintances in his head. Dean's stomach dropped when clear blue eyes met his, realization dawning. "Benny," he said.

Unable to answer right away, Dean swallowed audibly and nodded. _Benny, I'm so fucking sorry about this._ He scratched agitatedly at his ear. "Benny... spent some time in Purgatory. He doesn't know how to open or close portals from this end, I'm sure of that much, but he can probably tell you anything you need to know about the inside. The bestiary, the escape hatch, everything."

"Why didn't you-" Castiel cut himself off, teeth clicking shut before he could finish the sentence. Dean mentally thanked him for that. Appreciated how the angel seemed to be learning quickly about how to approach the subject. "Would he talk to us if we asked?"

"Probably." Dean took several steps towards Castiel, eyes pleading. "Look, let me do this, all right? I don't want to throw him in front of some angel tribunal to spill his guts about the worst point in his life. He'll probably help, but we can't force him."

"We bloody well _can_ ," Balthazar said incredulously. "If he's been there, he's our best chance at getting a real leg up on the competition."

Dean made a move forward, but was stopped when Castiel was the one to stand from his chair and shut down Balthazar, imposing stance and commanding voice. It shocked Dean to the core.

"You will do as Dean asks," Castiel demanded. "Benny is a friend and an ally. If he cannot help us, we will find another way."

Both Gabriel and Balthazar relented to that, suspiciously easily for Dean's taste, but knowing that Castiel had his back on it made it a lot easier to handle. "Thanks, Cas," he said. "I'll call Benny. See what he has to say." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and made a tactical retreat to his room to place the call in private.

And as he suspected, Benny was less than thrilled with the idea. "You're planning to do _what_ now?" he said angrily, accent thickening in his displeasure. "Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to be anywhere near one of those gates if and when it opens?"

Dean sat down heavily on his bed. "I know, man. But I don't know how else we're supposed to stop any of this shit. I mean, having two archangels and a seraph around has to be a good thing, right? They're powerful."

Benny snorted. "Yeah, if you want them shining like a goddamn beacon. Angels aren't supposed to be in the same zipcode as Purgatory. And they _definitely_ wouldn't be acceptable there. They'd be easy to track. Easier to find."

"Can you give me anything, Benny?" Dean asked, pained.

He could hear the phone shifting and the small hiss on the other end of the line. Great, his best friend was having to drink just to be able to talk to him about this. "Here's the deal with Purgatory," Benny said, resignation weighing his voice. "It don't want certain things there. Humans, for instance. Not many people, or even Purgatory natives know this, but God put a pretty good exit hatch down there just in case any humans ever made it down there. And I'm not talking turned humans. I'm talking your run-of-the-mill Joe blow who gets there accidentally. Purgatory _wants_ to spit out things that don't belong and the portal was designed to let humans out."

That made sense. Dean leaned back against the bed's headboard and kicked his feet up. "So, can other things grab on and hitch a ride, too?"

"Dunno," Benny answered. "Never seen it. I got out with a pretty nasty spell. I guess it's possible that turned humans might be able to make a run for it, but anything else might not make it. I sure didn't chance it just running for the exit."

"Good to know. Anything else?"

"Watch out for yourself."

"Benny."

"I mean it, man. This whole Apocalypse thing's got you riled something fierce. And I get that. But I don't want you doing what you do and thinking you can take it all on. I just... brother, I got a bad feeling about this. Afraid those angels of yours are gonna talk you into jumping through that gate. No matter what kind of hero you think you ought to be, you do _not_ want to deal with what Purgatory would shove at you."

Message received loud and clear. "I won't do anything stupid."

A hint of fond humor touched the vampire's voice. "Now, I'm not so sure that I believe that. You'd do anything for someone you thought was worth the trouble, and that ain't always a good thing."

"The hell are you talking about?" It hardly made sense to him. Why was Benny lecturing him about doing something for the people he loved? That was normal human behavior, as far as he was concerned.

"You and me. You and Cas. Hell, even you and Sam."

Feeling stupider by the second and more than a little irritated, he said, "I don't get it."

"I know that," Benny agreed. "It's a dangerous part of your personality. You didn't think twice about slicing yourself open to feed me when I was shot. If Sam was in any real danger, you'd rip out your own heart if it meant saving him. And Cas..." he trailed off with a significant pause.

"Cas can take care of himself," Dean snapped, still not entirely sure why his own heroics were bothering him.

"Glad you know that," Benny answered, not unkindly. "For what good it'll do you when push comes to shove. Which it will, Dean. This thing is too big not to. Promise me you'll watch out for yourself, not just everyone else."

Dean rolled his eyes, though he couldn't totally ignore the sneaking suspicion he'd have to admit that Benny was right. "I will."

"S'all I'm asking. Anyway, you gonna need me there tomorrow?"

Thumping his head back against the headboard, Dean said, "I can't ask you to do that. Even for a good cause."

"You ain't asking. I'm offering."

"I don't think you should. I think you should stay as far away from Purgatory as you can."

Benny chuckled. "I won't argue with that. Dean. You call me if you need anything. I mean it."

"Thanks, Benny." Dean clicked the phone off and tapped it against his chin contemplatively. He didn't like to be a doomsayer ahead of time, but more and more he was understanding how much they _didn't_ understand. How epically dangerous it was. Two archangels and a seraph, and Benny still thought that they were out of their minds going anywhere near a portal, even one that hadn't been opened yet. They obviously couldn't let Zachariah and Raphael have their way, but it was more than magic and monsters. Dean was starting to worry that they hadn't fully appreciated how big the end of the world really was. How were they supposed to wrap their heads around that? The only thing he was sure of was that he was going to do whatever he could to keep his people safe. It hardly mattered in the long run if Dean Winchester disappeared. All that mattered was that he would have made a difference. He tossed his phone on the end table and went to rejoin the others to tell them what Benny had said. Now wasn't the time to overthink. It was time to act. He was square with that. Hopefully.

xXx

"Don't you think that we should be taking a less conspicuous vehicle?" Castiel asked for the third time, eyeing the Impala while Sam and Dean packed the trunk with emergency supplies for the stakeout.

"It's either this or the ambulance," Sam said over his shoulder as he passed by to shove his duffle next to a cardboard box full of spell supplies.

"At least Baby's black," Dean said reasonably. "Won't stick out so much in the dark as long as we find a good place to hide her."

Gabriel and Balthazar had stayed to help with the packing, but drew the line at being shoved into a _car_ , of all things, saying that they'd meet up at the coordinates. Castiel opted to stay with the humans. Dean tried to remind him that it wasn't necessary, but Castiel had insisted for extra protection. Sam shrugged and shot his brother an amused look.

Twenty minutes into the middle of nowhere was when the unease started creeping in. Dean hadn't been able to fully shake the feeling that something about all of this was just too easy and clean. Gabriel and Balthazar just _happened_ to know where a portal was the day before it was scheduled to be opened. He wasn't completely jaded, but he also didn't get so lucky on most days. "How far out are we?" he asked Sam.

"GPS says a couple more miles. The turnoff is coming up.."

"You okay with this, Cas?" Dean asked now that they were without the archangels listening in. "And I mean really?"

Castiel leaned over the back of the bench seat between the brothers. "I'm not okay with this. But I believe that this is something we need to do."

"You think those two are up to something?"

"I think those two are hiding something."

Sam snorted. "No kidding. That seems obvious. They're pretty squirrely."

Dean rolled his shoulders. "Okay, since we're all calling bullshit, let's make a plan B for when those opportunistic assholes decide to quit playing as a team when it stops being convenient."

"Agreed," Sam said. "We'll work it out before the eclipse. For now, we're here. Turn there. On the left."

"Love how all these places are in the middle of fucking nowhere," Dean groused. He angled the Impala down the narrow dirt road, stopping well back from the spot the archangels had indicated. He killed the headlights and engine, washing them in complete darkness.

"This is better than in the middle of the city," Castiel pointed out. "All the same, please be careful. I'll take the lead."

Sam and Dean did as they were told, creeping cautiously towards the treeline. The humans couldn't see shit in this darkness, but Castiel seemed to be fine, guiding them to where Gabriel and Balthazar were already crouched in the brush, back from a small break in the trees. The world around them was silent.

Castiel hunched down as small as possible the last few yards to the archangels, Sam and Dean doing the same.

"Anything?" Castiel asked.

"Nada," Gabriel whispered.

"What exactly are we waiting..." Sam's voice faded away.

"The fuck?" Dean hissed.

Castiel leaned forward about to pounce, but Balthazar put a hand out to stop him. "Not yet," he murmured. 

The seraph looked mutinous, but held his place as an eerie, cold blue light pulsed in the tiny clearing, throbbing gently and dim. Zachariah and Raphael entered the clearing nearly silent and surrounded by tendrils of brighter blue lights. A dozen of them, maybe more. Raphael bent forward and placed something on the ground, though with his back to the hiding place, it was impossible to make out what it was.

"No," Castiel breathed.

Dean shuffled closer to the angel, taking his arm and putting his lips close to his ear so they wouldn't be heard. "What are all those lights?"

Castiel seemed transfixed. He couldn't tear his eyes away, his body as rigid as stone. "Souls," he breathed on an exhale.

Dean's heart lurched as his gaze flew back to the scene. Raphael was gesturing his right arm, saying something, probably a spell, that his human hearing couldn't pick up. From the look on Gabriel's face, however, he at least, appeared able to hear it.

Even at a whisper, the alarm in Castiel's voice was clear. "We have to stop this," he said to his brothers. "Now."

Gabriel shook his head. "Those souls are already lost." He pointed to where Raphael had been. "They're bound. And he's summoning something."

They didn't have to wait long to find out who. A moment later, Crowley popped into the clearing.

"Of-fucking-course," Dean grit through clenched teeth. "That asshole knew all along."

"Evening, gentleman," the demon greeted carelessly.

The archangels said nothing.

"Lovely. No small talk as always. Fine. Let's do business."

"Thirteen souls for thirteen beasts," Raphael said shortly.

"They've been deployed," Crowley assured them. "As requested."

The archangels exchanged a look, but seemed content with the arrangement. Zachariah shrugged and with a snap of his fingers, the souls flashed away, leaving only the dim ambient light and Zachariah holding out a clear corked decanter, filled with the writhing blue souls, towards Crowley.

Castiel moved in a flash. He was in the clearing and racing towards Crowley. The demon's eyes widened but then, with a smirk, he was gone. " _No!_ " Castiel shouted. He rounded on the archangels. "What have you two _done_?" Both stared back at the interloper, unimpressed. Almost like they'd been expecting him. 

Zachariah shrugged, flicking imaginary lint off of his suit jacket cuff. "A business deal."

"Those were souls!" Castiel raged. "Human souls that you gave to the king of Hell!"

"He's a profitable partner," Raphael said, voice devoid of emotion. "He's done much to help speed the process along."

"This is a perversion of God's plan!" Castiel said despairingly. "This is not His will!"

Raphael came nose to nose with him. "No, but it is _our_ will, Castiel. God is absent. God is not watching. God does not care. And if He will not do what is right, then _we_ will. You need to understand your place."

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when a clap of thunder, only louder, echoed through the forest. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to help Castiel, but Sam held him fast to his spot and he couldn't quite find the coordination to throw him off. The terror clawed at him, knowing he couldn't possibly take on those two, but he wanted to help. He needed to help.

Gabriel and Balthazar must have seen the intent warring inside him, and weighed the odds in favor of the cherished vessels to end the world not falling into the enemy's hands. They both jumped to their feet and made it into the clearing at the same moment that Castiel's angel blade glinted with unnatural light, clenched tightly in his hand. Raphael was faster. He shoved his hand out into the center of Castiel's chest, and the seraph went flying backwards, straight into Gabriel's arms, knocking them down like a couple of divine bowling pins. And then the archangels too disappeared in an instant, as Crowley had before.

Castiel heaved a breath. Let out a wordless cry of rage and staggered to his feet. Dean reached for him and he slapped the hand away. He disappeared in a whoosh of air. Gabriel and Balthazar followed presently.

Sam and Dean drove back to the bunker in silence.

xXx

Dean woke up suddenly, eyes snapped to the ceiling. There wasn't a sound. His foggy brain took a minute to work out what had actually woken him. He could feel the angel's presence, even if he couldn't see him in the darkness. "Cas," he said, voice soft and hoarse with sleep. "You okay?"

"No," Castiel said. He sat on the edge of the bed. 

Dean instinctively rolled towards him, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before turning on the bedside lamp. He hung his feet over the edge of the bed, scant inches from touching the angel. He settled for placing his hand on Castiel's slumped shoulder, squeezing. But he also got the impression that silence was the better part of valor here.

"I can't stop it. I can't stop any of it." He sounded so defeated that Dean didn't even know how to react. "I have to, but..."

Their hands were joined before either of them consciously thought of it. Dean was pretty sure that he initiated it because Castiel was looking down at them with a look of mild surprise. "Something's holding you back," Dean said softly. "What's going on with you, Cas? You're not like this."

Castiel's gaze raised slowly up to meet Dean's. The look in his eyes made Dean reflexively want to pull away because he recognized it and that sort of thing never ended well for him. All the same, there was no way he could actually ignore it. Or deny Cas anything. "I did a lot of thinking tonight. It's bigger than we knew. Zachariah and Raphael are further along than we'd planned. There will be casualties no matter what. And... I don't want to lose you, Dean," the angel murmured. "I don't want to _leave_ you."

Dean reached up quickly and grasped the back of Castiel's neck, pulling him close and resting his forehead against Castiel's temple. He closed his eyes. "Then don't," he demanded with feeling.

"It's not that easy."

He gripped tighter. "It _is_ ," he insisted. "It's that easy. You just... say you won't leave and then you don't. It's that simple." He didn't bother to hide the desperation that leaked into his voice. "It's all a shit show right now. I know that. I do. But you've got me, and if that means I have to take on all of Heaven to keep you, I will. I _need_ you, Cas, and that scares the _shit_ outta me. Do you get that?"

Cool fingers brushed across his cheek, cupping his face. "Yes," Castiel whispered. He turned his head and pressed his lips gently to Dean's, tilting his chin just right. He'd learned. The chaste kiss sent a thrill all the way down to Dean's toes. And the way that Castiel dove into it, pouring a craving and _need_ into it that was so painfully _human_ , the trepidation swept out of Dean's head immediately. Castiel wasn't some "powerful angel" right then. He was a man whose world had come crashing down and he needed Dean. _Needed_ him. Maybe the most vulnerable moments weren't the time to do this, but Dean needed it, too. So badly. 

That's why he let Castiel wrap him up in his arms him and draw him down into the pillows, letting _him_ decide what should happen next. In all honesty, Dean longed for that. He wanted to let go. Just once... once. He sighed into Castiel's mouth and hung on for dear life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell you all how sorry I am that this chapter took so long. First of all, it's a bridge chapter, so I really had to decide exactly what to do to get everyone in place for the run to the climax, but I had to trash 2.5 drafts completely to get there. However, from here on out it's a whole shit show of the world ending, so I'm pretty sure that will be much easier to write! Thank you for your patience and continued comments and support!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean explore their relationship further. Team Free Will confronts the gate to Purgatory. It's the beginning of the end.
> 
> _**!!!!NSFW!!!!!**_ This chapter contains graphic sexual content!

After a few minutes of being pinned against his mattress, Castiel on top of him and kissing the life out of him, Dean became aware of two things. One, that he was so turned on that he thought he might actually die if Castiel decided that kissing was enough. Two, that Castiel was a fucking force of nature when he set his mind to seduction.

He didn't talk, or even make any sounds at all. He simply drew Dean in with his single minded focus that defined so much of what he did everywhere else. His hands came up to grasp either side of Dean's face, only adding to the intensity as it drew Dean's full attention to the angel's rapt attention on his face. His lips slowly marking every part, sensitizing every bit of skin. They way he aligned their bodies, shifting just a little, stoked a fire somewhere deep inside Dean that he was scared could never be put out once properly lit. 

In fact, Dean was fairly certain he'd never been bared so plainly before, and he hadn't even lost a single article of clothing. Castiel just... narrowed everything down to a pinpoint. Took every tiny detail and worshipped it thoroughly. And Dean let him. They might not have had all the time in the world to do something like this, but for now nothing mattered more. Castiel must have kissed him a hundred times by then, but had only gone so far as to explore the shape of Dean's lips, his own lips moving barely a fraction with every touch. It left Dean's mouth tingling and oversensitive, wet and plush. Dean could only take the torture for so long. He didn't have the patience of a saint. Or an angel.

He tightened his grip around Castiel's shoulders, rolling them until their positions were reversed, though Castiel didn't seem to mind in the slightest, straining his neck so that the contact between their mouths never ceased.

It was almost funny the way that Castiel followed Dean to a sitting position like their mouths were glued together. Dean wanted to ask him things. Tell him things. But Castiel seemed hungry for the silence. Dean understood. Sometimes he liked enjoying a meal in peace, too. Especially when he had no real idea of what it would be like for Castiel. All he had to go on for the moment was the way that Castiel's muscles trembled, the way that goosebumps rose on his skin when Dean's lips found a new place to touch. He was pretty sure that even the angel wasn't entirely certain what he wanted. He'd already admitted to having little experience in this area. So, the kissing could drag on. The above the clothes touching.

Not that there weren't plenty of things to be do, and Castiel was definitely moving the action forward, if only in fits and starts. His hands slipped under the hem of Dean's white t-shirt and his fingers stopped, pressing against warm skin. Dean breathed out, his muscles quaking against the touch.

Then the action suddenly leapt forward with a bound. Castiel's hands swept up over Dean's chest, bringing the shirt up. Dean lifted his arms and the angel had to stop the kiss momentarily to get the cotton over Dean's head. He tossed it to the the side with one hand then he was back fully, fingers trailing down Dean's arms in a light touch that made the appendages feel heavy as lead. He leaned forward slightly, in an aborted attempt for a kiss, but he was trapped watching Dean's reaction to his hands. Dean shivered and a breath puffed from his parted lips. He dropped his hands to Castiel's shoulders when the angel moved his hands lower across Dean's ribs. Dean's fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of Castiel's neck, missing his mouth. Wanting it back. _Needing_ it back.

Castiel's breath caught in a shudder that sounded almost like a sob. Dean's lips moved to the angel's neck as he removed the tie, unbuttoned his shirt. Castiel shrugged out of his coat and tossed it away with his tie and shirt once Dean was finished with them.

It was just how Dean remembered it, but even better because this time Castiel was properly awake, uninjured, and staring right at him with a wide-eyed sort of wonder. His hands worked all over Dean's exposed skin with a certain reverence that he couldn't help but be enthralled by. It was almost like magic the way that Castiel's fingers felt almost painfully good against his nerve endings. Goosebumps rose on his flesh just like Castiel's. The angel smiled silently. He tipped his head forward, staring at Dean all the while. The bridges of their noses slid together. Still staring. Castiel stole a quick kiss that Dean didn't even have time to respond to before it was over. Another. Dean pushed forward and made it deeper.

He wasn't wrong about feeling something different with Castiel. He didn't fancy himself a romantic, so it was easy to disregard the notion that the angel was far more physically special than anyone he'd ever been with. He wasn't. He was A+ everything as far as Dean's type was concerned, but there'd been others just so. No, it had something to do with him being an angel. Had to. Something when he was opening himself up and letting himself be vulnerable to the sensations. There was an extra... _thing_. Dean really didn't know how to describe it. But it was there, raw and brilliant. It resonated deep in him, and if he had to take a guess, he'd say that it was something to do with his soul. Which Castiel said was beautiful. Strong.

He was brought back to the present with a gasp when the nerve endings on his arms spiked with pleasure. His eyes flew open and he saw it. Actually saw it. Castiel was watching the movement of his fingers over Dean's forearms down to his hands and they were leaving trails of dim blue light behind that faded quickly. Was Castiel using his grace to-?

Near miss almost biting his tongue when that core inside him responded by igniting with heat edged with lust. Dean couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. But it felt like he was glowing, too. Maybe he was. He wanted to see, but that was impossible.

Castiel swept his hands up to Dean's shoulders and tugged. Then he was kissing Dean again and the human thought he saw a flash of light behind his closed eyelids, but the only confirmation of that was the fact that they were now fully naked. The moving air from the ceiling fan on newly-bared skin and the sudden absence of the pressure of his remaining clothes were enough to confirm it. Neat trick. 

Insistently, Castiel pushed Dean back towards the head of the bed, and he went willingly, scooting to rest his back against the pillow and wall. Lips and hands wandered the entire time, and Dean was starting to think that he might be able to come with just the slow grinding and making out. It had been a while, so one one could blame him. He devoured the sight of Castiel fully naked. His vessel was impressive and had obviously exercised regularly. He was lean, firm, a bit of softness covering hard muscle. And his dick made Dean's mouth water. Even it was perfect. Uncut, thick enough to be a challenge, but not impossibly so. He reached out and took Castiel in hand. The angel whispered a curse when Dean stroked down once, exposing the glans. Fuck, he really might actually come. He squeezed his eyes shut, but continued to move his hand very slowly.

He opened his eyes when Castiel shifted and his weight was gone from Dean's lap for a moment. What he saw made him realize that the question of who was going to be on top was answered before it had even been asked. 

Castiel was straddling him again, though he was raised up on his knees, left hand braced against Dean's thigh, right hand behind himself. The breathy moans me made left absolutely no question as to what he was doing. He was opening himself for Dean. 

_Fuck_. Dean's dick twitched almost painfully as he started stroking again. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the head of the angel's dick, and wrapped the rest of them around, slowly pulling down while massaging the head. Castiel bucked. Made a kind of shocked, choking sound. He squeezed Dean's thigh, and Dean felt the glowing again. It made him lose track of time, almost lose track of himself as he reveled in the feeling of everything slipping away until there was nothing but the hot coiling of desire filling him and threatening to spill over. Literally and figuratively. But he didn't miss the second Castiel finished working himself over. He withdrew his hand and Dean immediately grabbed him around his shoulders, turning him fluidly onto his back.

Castiel raised his legs, spread wide, and Dean was too close to get a full view, but the better part of the whole thing was Castiel watching him unblinking, pupils wide with arousal and trust etched into his expression.

The desire to be gentle was there, but Dean needed the angel's help. He brought Castiel's hands up to his biceps before bracing himself on the bed right next to his ear. He took himself in hand, just a movement away from sliding into Castiel and the angel's smile was astounding. 

Dean pushed past the tight ring of muscle, into heat and all his breath left him in a whoosh. He moved as slowly as he could, but Castiel's trembling muscles and the bow of his neck as he moaned in near ecstasy almost killed his best laid plans.

Glowing. Heat. Tingling. All around him. All over him. He hoped he didn't black out before he completed his mission of giving Castiel everything he was capable of. He'd try his best. And his best certainly had an effect, at least.

He felt the angel's heels digging into his lower back. A sharp thrust up that seated Dean completely. Both of them cried out. Paused for a moment to adjust. Then Dean started to move.

Inevitably, there was no way to last. Castiel reached up and cupped his face. Drew him down for a kiss that was far more tender than the forceful roll of their hips. He might have said he hadn't had much experience in actual sexual relations, but Castiel was reading Dean's body like an open book in bold type, 90 point font. He never lost the rhythm. Drove them higher towards the peak until it was inescapable. And he jumped off the cliff first, untouched with a shuddering shout, his whole body straining up with his release.

Dean felt it. He saw it. The overpowering shimmer of blue light tracing his veins under his skin. His hips lost their swift, easy movements, and he came hard, dropping his head to bite Castiel's shoulder, if only to keep him grounded. Castiel moaned again and it cut off into a bassy growl. When Dean lifted his head just enough to stop squashing his nose, carefully withdrawing his softening dick, he saw gold-bronze light shimmering through Castiel just the same as the blue had done - was doing - to him. He marveled at it, but didn't question it. He knew the answer would be too big, and it pulsed peace inside him that he didn't want to get rid of just yet. But it only lasted a moment before the figurative afterglow tugged him down from his high into deep underground. Sleep. His whole body craved it. He lowered himself half off of Castiel, but let his weight deny the angel moving out of his bed. Castiel allowed it, quietly.

xXx 

When Dean woke up, he was alone. He wasn't surprised since angels didn't sleep. It probably wasn't very interesting to watch a human sleep for... he checked the clock... ten hours. He briefly contemplated laying in bed for another hour or so until reality came crashing down. Today was the day. It was gonna be bad.

Dammit. So much for the brief reprieve of good feelings. He sat up and shoved his pillow back against the wall, cold morning hair hitting his bare chest and drawing out a shiver.

The bedroom door opened slowly. "Good morning, Dean," Castiel said from the doorway.

Despite the shift in his thoughts, he still smiled. "Yeah, 'mornin, Cas. You coming in, or is lurking in doorways your new thing?"

Castiel caught the humor in his voice. "I wasn't sure if you were awake yet. I brought you coffee." He stepped in and Dean got a shock to his heart. Castiel... was wearing his clothes. The Guns 'N Roses shirt fit a bit loose, but the dark jeans hung on his hips nicely. The brick red zipper hoodie topping it off made him look a bit like a lazy college student, combined with his uncombed hair. He held out a steaming mug of coffee.

A preliminary sip told Dean that Castiel probably knew everything about him, if the perfect coffee was anything to go by. "Looks like you raided my closet while I was sleeping. Did you get bored?"

Castiel sat on the edge of the bed with a thoughtful expression. "No, but I felt a bit... uneasy. I went to do the laundry and while folding, it crossed my mind that perhaps the reminder of you would... apologies. I should have asked. Would you like them back?"

"Eventually," Dean shrugged. "Don't worry about it." _At all. Ever._ That was about all the unembarrassed small talk he had in him. He glanced down. "So, are you, uh...?"

"I'd like to kiss you good morning," he answered.

Dean nodded.

Castiel kissed him in a lot more greetings than "good morning." His mouth opened over Dean's and their tongues met. It curled Dean's toes and didn't let up until he nearly spilled his coffee everywhere. "Good morning," Castiel said again.

"Hell, yeah," Dean murmured, dazed. Castiel stayed close for another minute and Dean really, _really_ likes that.

"Did you get a sufficient amount of sleep?" It was not a casual question. Shifting gears, then.

Dean cleared his throat. "For the big day ahead, you mean? Yeah. I'll be fine. Just. Hey, do _you_ have everything you need? I know you don't sleep. Your batteries recharged and everything?"

"Yes. I don't mean to anger you again by saying this, but our relations last night 'recharged' me."

With the best smile he could manage given the day ahead, Dean knuckled Castiel's shoulder. "I'm not mad. Now that we're clear on what this is." He gestured between them.

"Humans call it being lovers, correct?"

"Catching on quick," Dean answered, flushing. Talking about being lovers with an angel was strange enough that Dean was almost relieved to bring the conversation back around to the grim task at hand. "So, anyway, what do we need to do to prepare for tonight? We already blew our cover so Zach and Raph are gonna be on guard."

"Yes," Castiel mused. "I suspect they may attempt warding the area to keep us away."

Dean took too large of a sip of his coffee and scalded his tongue. With a grimace he said, "is it even possible to ward against humans?"

Shrugging, the angel said, "not that I know of. But they can ward against any other supernatural beings, given enough time and effort."

"Huh. D'you think we should head them off at the pass? Get an early start?"

"It would probably be more beneficial to speak with Captain Singer and his team. If they're willing to help, we may have enough help on our side to break through the wards and get to them before it's too late. I believe Sam was speaking with him while I made the coffee."

"Sounds good. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and we'll have a family meeting."

"Of course, Dean." He didn't move an inch. He stared at Dean. Dean stared at him.

"Uh. That means leave so I can put some clothes on."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "But I've already seen the most intimate parts of you."

Half laughing, half mortified, Dean tossed his pillow right at Castiel's head. "This ain't no peep show!"

"Humans are very strange," Castiel said, pushing the pillow away. But he still stood up and left Dean to dress by himself. 

Sam was in the war room just ending his call to Bobby. "Is Dean up?" Castiel nodded. "Good. Bobby said he'd get everyone he could and watch the site. Volunteer only. But we could sure use some advice on maybe taking down an angel or two."

"You can't kill an angel," Castiel said mildly, "unless you have an angel blade."

"We do not have an angel blade," Sam answered.

"Only other angels have them."

"Naturally."

"We can still use banishing symbols if we can get close enough to them," Castiel pointed out.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "How close is 'close?'"

The angel shrugged. "Within sight of the sigil should be sufficient."

"Good to know." Sam typed rapidly on his phone, relaying the news to Bobby. "Anything else?"

"I suggest waiting until just before the eclipse to move. Since my brothers are already expecting us, they have likely already prepared for other eventualities. However, they do not know how many people we have on our side. That can be used to our advantage if we can keep the surprise."

Sam huffed. "How can they _not_ know?"

"Because they have failed to pay attention to how large of a threat that humans can actually be." The satisfied smile on his face had a dangerous edge.

Dean appeared, looking freshly showered and dressed in his most durable jeans, boots, and flannel. Sam and Castiel got him up to speed, and after breakfast, the trio made their way downtown to help Bobby and his volunteers plan the attack. They didn't expect such a large crowd of volunteers. And even less expected were Gabriel and Balthazar standing right in the middle.

Before anyone could say anything, Gabriel had spotted the new arrivals and said, "you humans never cease to amaze. Look at this setup. Color me impressed _and_ slightly aroused."

"Why did you let them in?" Dean asked a harassed Bobby.

"They're archangels," Bobby grouched. "I couldn't keep 'em _out_."

"Just ignore them and maybe they'll go away," Dean said dryly. "What's the plan here?"

Bobby gestured for them follow back to his desk. "Well, we got patrols already keeping the area under surveillance, and undercovers posing as utility workers keeping people off the main road leading to the site. Nothing crazy happening so far. Y'all got a plan?"

"A spell," Balthazar said. "We can close the gates of Purgatory, though it would be best if we could stop it from opening them in the first place."

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Taking care of those damn fools before they do anything worse," Gabriel said as if it was obvious.

"I don't think I wanna condone angel on angel kills here on Earth," Bobby said pointedly. "I know there's a war coming, but the last thing we need is all the damn angels upstairs have a grudge match down here."

"We'll be quiet about it," Gabriel said.

"My ass," Bobby returned. "Not like I can stop you, though. Do what you gotta do, but be damn sure it's worth the consequences. And keep that gate closed."

"We will," Castiel cut in. "Thank you, Captain Singer."

He grunted and moved away to bark more orders. Dean and Sam helped where they could until Castiel said that it was time to go. This time when they arrived, they had a whole team of first responders out of sight and armed with everything from conventional weapons to spells and charms. They were as ready as they were going to get. The eclipse had begun.

Dean parked the Impala in the same place as before and they all piled out, Balthazar and Gabriel appearing a moment later. They silently walked to the clearing, the three angels with their blades out, Dean and Sam unholstering their guns, for all the good they'd do. The clearing itself was empty. Not even a breeze. The small party paused and glanced around.

Dean lowered his weapon slightly. "Am I gonna have to be the one quoting all cheesy movies ever to say it's too quiet here?"

"I appreciate the effort," Zachariah answered.

They all swung around, weapons raised, but the archangel waved his hand and Dean felt his body immediately go rigid. Terror swept over him. The other angels fared better, being able to move slightly, but it still wasn't enough to be any sort of threat.

"Fashionably late as usual, though I admire your persistance," Zachariah continued. "We've already got the spell. There's no stopping the gate from opening. In fact..." he stepped closer to Dean and Sam. "You've brought me the icing on the cake."

Castiel broke free first and swiped his blade towards Zachariah. It sliced across the front of his ugly gray tie, only barely biting into the skin as he jumped back. The small wound flashed blue and Zachariah growled at Castiel, throwing him back with little effort and a flick of his wrist.

His face twisted with distaste. "I'm a little tired of you powerless ants trying to rise up against the inevitable. Purgatory is in my grasp and Armageddon will happen. Starting with you." He pointed his meaty finger at Sam.

"The hell it will," Sam gritted out through a jaw that refused to work.

"You haven't got a choice," Zachariah said, baring his teeth in a cruel smile.

Balthazar and Gabriel managed to break the binding at nearly the same moment, rushing Zachariah, but it was too late to stop. Footsteps pounded through the underbrush; the rest of the humans running to their aid.

With dawning horror, Dean realized they were just more souls to be fed to Purgatory. Zachariah had wanted this and they were about to serve up more than a dozen humans to the cause. He screamed a warning, but it was probably too late.

A whoosh of combusting materials flashed towards the treeline. It was Raphael finishing the spell. They'd all been too focused on Zachariah to even notice him. The pungent smell reached them a second later, and then the most horrible, screeching, grinding wail filled the air. Dean wished that he could cover his ears, but his body felt cast in stone. It was like the archangels had summoned a hurricane in the next second. The wind whipped furiously and a blinding light overtook the darkening clearing that almost burned, it was so intense. It looked like the sky itself was rending itself painfully open, into a gaping wound of foul windy air and sickly yellow light. In his peripheral vision, Dean saw the humans strain to keep standing against the gale, unable to move closer.

Zachariah's shout barely carried over the din. "You've failed! Time to take your consolation prize!" He waved his hand, and Dean felt his body go limp. He stumbled to his hands and knees, immediately trying to stand, but the force from the gate was too much. He turned his head to locate Sam, and a split second later wished that he hadn't. Zachariah was right in front of his brother. He said something, but Dean couldn't hear what. Sam's answer made the archangel smile wider. Almost in slow motion, Zachariah raised his arm, snapped his fingers, and Sam was gone after a secondary explosion erupted through the air. 

Dean couldn't hear himself screaming. He must have been though, because his throat scorched. He dug his hands into the wet earth, trying for leverage to pull himself to the gate. Fuck, but the wind felt like being slapped with thousands of needles. But the closer he got, the more he felt like he was slowly transitioning from being pushed away to being sucked in. Sam was in there. he knew it. _Knew it_. And he had to get there. Just a few more feet. _Move, Dean!_. It didn't matter what happened to him or what corruption dirtied his soul in Purgatory. He could take it. Fight it. He had to get Sam. Crawling closer and closer to Zachariah, who blocked the light just slightly. He didn't care. He'd take that fucking archangel with him to Hell, if he had to.

But he didn't. A sway of the familiar tan coat tore his gaze up. Castiel. Guarding him. It looked like he was frozen in place. Had Zachariah..? No. _NO_! The bright blue-white flash like when Castiel had injured Zachariah before, happened again. It wasn't Cas who fell. Zachariah's vessel slumped to the ground. Dead. Castiel turned around and stared down at Dean, that unearthly blue shine in his eyes again.

"I'll get Sam," he said.

Dean yanked himself forward another couple of inches. "Cas!"

Castiel took a single step back and was sucked through the portal. A second later is screeched and groaned again, and then it was gone. Just like that. The silence made Dean's ears ring.

Hands were on his shoulders, hauling him to his feet. Numbly, Dean sagged against Gabriel, peering around at the wreckage dispassionately. It took him a moment to realize that only he, Gabriel, and Balthazar were left alive. The first responders were gone. Dean wasn't optimistic enough to think they'd be anywhere besides Purgatory. Zachariah dead. Raphael... gone? Sam...

"What the fuck," Dean whispered. Panic welled up, clawed at his throat.

"It was a trap," Balthazar said quietly.

Dean's legs gave out, and he would have fallen if not for Gabriel holding onto him tightly. "Whoa there, pal. You're in shock. Let's get you out of here."

"No," Dean said softly, disbelieving. "N-no, I can't. Sammy's in..." he gestured vaguely over his shoulder to the clearing that the archangels were resolutely steering him away from. His teeth started to chatter. He trembled so hard he thought he'd break apart. "I gotta... just... gotta help Sammy. And Cas... fuck, Cas did... Cas was... Sam's, _fuck_."

"He's going to pass out," Balthazar said calmly.

"Good idea," Gabriel answered. 

Dean tried to bat the angel's hand away, but Gabriel placed two fingers on his forehead and darkness immediately followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to pretend that I can get my writing schedule back on track, but life sure is doing its best to prevent that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more than one way to enter Purgatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This longer chapter posted sooner is my apology to all of you for having to wait a month for the last one. :)

When Dean woke, he was flat on his back staring at the light fixture on the ceiling of a hospital room. He blinked. Held perfectly still. Counted to ten. Attempted to take stock of his injuries before his brain decided that it was time to freak out. Body aches, though nothing felt broken. Throbbing pain on his face and hands. Burns? Eyes sandpapery and probably bloodshot. Uncomfortable twinge on the top of his hand from an IV when he twitched his fingers. Ears ringing loudly enough that he had to actually concentrate to hear the other voices in the room that were only being moderately quiet. He closed his eyes again.

"How in the hell did he get so burned? You said you'd protect them. Cas promised!" Meg.

"Oh, come on. We did what we could, all right? Give us some credit! He's still alive after being two feet from a Purgatory gate and a few inches from an angel smiting! Considering, I'd say he's doing pretty damn peachy!" Gabriel. Offended.

Derisive snort. That had to be Meg again.

"I should'a been there." Southern drawl. Benny was also there to witness his failure. Awesome.

"Why, so you could just get your ass thrown back underground? Stop being so noble, and start being practical." Meg always was a barbed voice of reason. "And _you_. Tell us what else we can do to help Dean."

Must have been talking to Gabriel because he was the one who answered. "I can heal him?" The statement sounded pretty pleading.

"Not without a signed consent form," Dean croaked. He opened his eyes and saw too many people hanging over him. Weakly, he waved his hand in the air to get them to all back off a little. "Gabe, you're an asshole."

The archangel didn't seem bothered in the least. "Elaborate?"

"You mojo'd my ass out."

Gabriel shrugged, unperturbed. "You needed it. You slept for a whole day. Would you have preferred that or swooning?"

"Fuck you," he rasped.

"Noted. I'll make sure to bring a fainting couch next time."

Benny's annoyed voice cut in. "Y'all can it. Dean, you awake enough to give us the rundown?"

"Might be." He didn't want to be.

Meg came up beside and took his vitals. She fastened a pressure cuff around his arm. It felt like it was rubbing against raw skin. Dean hissed with pain. "You got a hell of a sunburn," she said, attempting sympathy that she couldn't really feel. The gesture was nice. "Blood pressure is okay. Want me to raise the bed?" Dean nodded and she pressed the button until he was almost sitting up straight. He groaned when it felt like every joint in his body was creaking with arthritis. He took several short breaths and waited for the spots in his vision to clear. Meg nodded over her shoulder. "You want him to heal you or not? There's plenty of morphine to go around if not."

"I really have to fill out a consent form?" Gabriel asked. He sounded intrigued.

"There ain't one," Benny said.

"Well, if you wanna get technical," Dean recited automatically, taking a cup of water from Meg, "there's the R-210 general release waiver for supernatural treatments. It'll release Gabe and the hospital from any liability of a spell or cure gone wrong."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Fuck's sake."

"Just heal me," Dean said. "I need out of this bed. Sam, Cas, and a dozen other people who shouldn't be in Purgatory, are in goddamn Purgatory. I gotta get them out."

"Whatever ya say, tiger." Gabriel approached the bed and Meg took several steps back, holding up her hands. "Don't you dare smite me," she said uneasily.

Gabriel winked. "Nah, you're too pretty for that." He pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and that strange, painful, healing fire scorched his veins, ending before he'd even worked up a proper pain response. "Good as new!"

"Thanks, Gabe." Dean motioned for Meg to turn off and remove the IV now that it was no longer necessary. Benny took care of the other machines. Once he was disconnected, Dean swung his feet over the edge of the bed and opened the bedside table to grab his bagged clothes.

"Not that I give a shit, but you can't just leave," Meg pointed out. "Doctor has to sign your release."

"They can yell at me later," Dean answered, pulling on his jeans before removing the hospital gown. "Bigger fish to fry and the billing department will find me regardless." He was twitchy. Hands still shaking with fine tremors. He was probably still on the close side of a panic attack, but at least he had focus for the moment. Get out of the hospital. Find a way to Purgatory. Rescue Sam and Cas. That was the only thing that mattered.

She shrugged and leaned against the window. "Fine and dandy, but how are you idiots planning on getting into Purgatory by yourselves, anyway?"

"No plan, as of yet," Gabriel said. "But we'll figure out something."

"Encouraging," she deadpanned.

"Before we start theorizing," Dean snapped, yanking on his dirty undershirt, "why don't we review what we know?"

Gabriel was game. He counted off on his fingers. "We know the spell components to open the door, but we don't have an eclipse. Sam and the other humans, at least, could feasibly get out of Purgatory if they found the exit since humans aren't supposed to be there. The door Zach and Raph opened is closed for good. Balthazar saw to that. So, we need a new entrance."

"You can't just open them whenever you like," Benny pointed out. "And waiting for another lunar eclipse? Seems like too long to leave Sam hanging. Not to alarm any of y'all, but he'll be fighting for his life as it is, Cas or no Cas."

"The sooner the better," Dean agreed, a lump forming in his chest at the thought of his brother stuck there, maybe with Cas, maybe without, fending off murderous monsters. Fuck, he could get himself killed easy. He was good at hand-to-hand combat after his stint in karate all the way through college, but it was an entirely different beast when things were _actually_ trying to kill you. "There's gotta be another way into Purgatory." He bent down to lace his boots, but didn't miss the look that Meg and Benny exchanged. "Now's the time to share with the class." He straightened.

"There's another way," Meg said slowly.

Benny nodded. "Best to talk about it all in private," he recommended.

"Fine," Dean said firmly. He got to his feet. "Gabe, you're coming with me, no flying off. Can you two meet us after your shifts?"

"I'll go clock out now," Benny said.

"I've got some personal days stored up, and my shift is over at midnight," she checked her watch, "in ten minutes."

"Good. See you soon. Gabe, can you blink us out of here?"

He grinned. "Sure thing. No angel wards here." He put his hand on Dean's shoulder, the world imploded, and the next time Dean blinked, he was in the bunker again, standing right next to the table. He stumbled for a second and recovered. 

"Not a fan."

"No kidding," Gabriel said dryly. "You're more a fan of phallic symbols on wheels."

"Whatever," Dean muttered, dragging himself to the kitchen to grab a beer. Fuck complete sobriety, no matter what they were going to have to face. "Where's your boyfriend at?" Balthazar's absence from the hospital had certainly been noticed. 

"Who, Sam?" Gabriel quipped. "You know where he is."

Dean could have taken a swing if he'd had the energy to. Wasn't worth it, and Gabriel _had_ saved his ass. Still, "Sam wouldn't go for you in a million years."

Gabriel sat down at the table, kicking his feet up like a heathen. Dean scowled; he'd just cleaned that damn table, but let it go since he was almost positive that Gabriel did most things just to get a rise out of him. "Wanna give me some pointers to win him over?"

"Hell, no," Dean answered, taking a deep pull from his beer and sitting across the table. "But if you tried, angel blade or not, I'm pretty sure he could kill you."

Gabriel looked at Dean like he'd been told the most romantic thing ever. "That's amazing."

Dean shook his head wearily. "You're disgusting."

"And _you're_ letting yourself be baited."

Huh. Dean tilted his head. Maybe the new angle would help him see the real angel behind the mask of snark and asshole. "You trying to distract me from reality?"

He shrugged. "Is it working?"

"A little."

Gabriel grinned. "Then, yes."

"I'm still not putting in a good word for you with my little brother. I don't like you."

"You barely like anyone besides him and Cas, and... maybe Benny? What's that business there?"

"None of yours," Dean snapped.

Thankfully he was saved an argument when the heavy storm door opened and Benny and Meg appeared on the landing.

Meg plugged her nose and waved a hand frantically in front of her face like she was trying to get a stench away. "Dean, fuck."

He jumped up. "Sorry! Jesus, I forgot. Extra wards. Gabriel, help me with some of this demon-proofing." He grabbed a can of black spray paint to ruin the bloodpaint symbols, but having an angel around for this was actually useful. Gabriel placed his hand on top of them and burned them out of existence one by one on the main level to at least give Meg access to the bigger rooms. Her shoulders visibly relaxed once the atmosphere was more hospitable.

"Guess I know why you never invite me over for Netflix and chill?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Do _all_ of you non-humans always have to make everything sexual?"

"Yes," Gabriel and Meg said together. She grinned at him. "Never thought I'd like an angel, but you aren't half bad, Gabe."

He made a sweeping bow. "Appreciate it."

Benny tromped down the stairs and raised an eyebrow at Dean's beer with a head tilt. Dean gestured for him and Meg to help themselves. Once they were all settled around the table, Dean wasted no time getting down to business. "What was so important we had to go on lock down?"

Benny tapped Meg on the shoulder. She sat forward, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder and clasping her hands. Damn. That sort of seriousness was rare. "There's more than one way to get into Purgatory," she said.

That came as a surprise to both Dean and Gabriel. The angel said, "more dangerous, you mean?"

She tipped a shoulder, rolling her bottle of beer between her palms. "Not really. The easiest way, you just need a gate and an escort."

"Like you?"

She shook her head. "I mean, I suppose I _could_ with a bit of practice, but I'm talking about a reaper. They can pass through all the planes at will. They're pretty much the only beings, aside from probably the Big Man Upstairs, who can do it. Even Crowley can't by himself."

"Reapers?" Dean said incredulously. "That sounds like a shitty second idea. We can't even _talk_ to them unless we're dead. And I ain't volunteering."

Benny shifted in his seat. "Well, if you're willing to sit it out and send a replacement, I can go for you. Teach Sam the spell to get me back out."

Something cold took root in Dean's heart. Ice started crawling through his veins. "Benny. Man, that's..."

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. "Suicide. Assisted, anyway."

He swallowed hard. "I can't do that." His hands were starting to shake again, dammit.

"Brother, I've been there. I know all the nooks and crannies. I also know how to stay alive. Sam's a big boy, and I'm sure he'll do all right for a time, but it'll wear on him. He's gotta get out, and he don't know where the exit is. Neither does Cas, assuming they even find each other. I know all that. I can get 'em out safe. In fact, if you'll recall what I said before, Sam is gonna be in a lot more danger hanging around with your winged boyfriend, what with his grace shining like a beacon."

Before Dean could say anything, Meg said, "I can go with him."

Dean's eyes widened. "Meg? What... how?"

"Not sure if it'll work or not, but if I smoke out at the last minute, I might be able to follow Benny down. Or if I possess him."

It was all getting weirder and weirder. Dean slumped over the table, putting his head down on his arms. Voice muffled he said, "you can't possess anyone, Meg. You've got the brand and it'll violate your visa."

Her voice was surprisingly sharp. "Look, I know you're trying to look out for me and all, but Sam's actually my friend. And after we got over the whole smiting thing, Clarence wasn't so bad, either. Plus, _you're_ my friend, too."

Dean picked his head up and Meg's expression was as close to pleading and gentle as it was possible to get. "We're friends, yeah. That's why I don't want you to ruin everything you've worked for just for me."

"You guys are worth it," Meg argued. "So, just have your archangel friend here remove my brand and we'll be good to go. It's the best plan. Me and Benny can find Sam and Cas. Everyone gets back in one piece, and maybe the law forgives us for violating every rule in the book. Best case scenario. Someone's gotta be an optimist."

Dean snorted. "Never thought that'd be you."

"Deal with it, Winchester. So, this good?" She locked eyes with everyone in turn.

"I'm down," Benny said.

Gabriel shrugged again. "Sure thing."

Dean spread his hands helplessly. "I can't let you guys just... _do_ this."

Meg stood up and pulled down the neck of her scrubs to show her brand and ignored Dean. "It's go time, Gabe."

Dean jumped to his feet. "Gabe-"

"Lady's choice," Gabriel said, pressing his hand over Meg's brand. A warm, gold light glowed from his hand and Meg hissed with pain, but it was over quickly.

She rubbed the spot. "That hurt."

"You're welcome," Gabriel grinned.

Dean watched the goings on helplessly. It was like he was talking to an empty room. Not that he wasn't deeply grateful, but how did he deserve _any_ of this? These people were putting their lives on the line for Sam and Cas. It was literal life and death. He wished it could have been him. It didn't seem right throwing his friends and coworkers to the wolves while he just sat back and waited for his brother and his... boyfriend? to be returned to him. It didn't sit right, someone else cleaning up his mess.

Benny squeezed his shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, brother."

"You can read my mind now?" Dean said testily. He shook his head. "Sorry. It's just... I don't know how to process any of this shit. I mean, you're talking about _dying_ and possession just to go on a wild goose chase. We don't even know if they're still alive."

"I got faith," Benny smiled. "Look, you're the most important friend I've ever had. You changed my life up here, and I'll never be able to square that. So, I'm gonna do this for you and you're not gonna complain about it or feel guilty. I'm clearing up the ledger."

Gabriel broke in. "Zachariah didn't kill Sam. He needs him to be alive in order to become Lucifer's vessel. No doubt, if he were still alive, 'ol Zach woulda' been right there watching over him to make sure he only got dirty enough to accommodate Lucy, but not get dead. Of course, that was his plan B. Gallons of demon blood for him to drink would have been better."

"And we threw a wrench in that," Dean pointed out. "No one's there to pull Sam out."

"That's why, the sooner we go, the better," Meg said. "Let's stop arguing about it and get our asses to the gate. There's one the reapers use downtown. Well hidden."

Dean didn't want to know how she knew that. He grabbed his boots and sat down to pull them on. Gabriel stepped in front of him.

"You sure you can do this?" he asked, and the concern in his voice was certainly new.

"I have to," Dean answered flatly.

"Technically, you don't," the angel argued. "If you need time, I can get it taken care of. It's not all on you."

"It is," Dean said with feeling. "These are my friends and family. I can't let them do this by themselves. I can't sit this one out. Hell, if I sit down to think about this for more than ten seconds, I'll probably have a panic attack, heart attack, and die. I need to keep moving. I need to feel like I'm doing something, or else I can't handle it. That cool with you?"

"Just asking," Gabriel said.

"One more teeny tiny thing," Meg said, shifting on her feet. She looked slightly embarrassed. "So, one of the requirements of living up here is that the bodies demons inhabit are kosher. They have to be on ice or newly dead with donor licenses."

"Yeah, I know," Dean said.

She rolled her eyes as if he was dullest tool in the shed. "That means my body'll rot without me. It has to be kept on ice so it's usable when I get back. We don't know how long we'll be gone, and if it's more than a few hours, that'll be bad."

"Oh," Dean said evenly. "Oh! Oh, right. Uh. Well. Y'know, this place... it's got..." he cleared his throat. "I can keep you on ice."

She looked surprised. "Really? You got drawers? Awesome. So, if Benny's okay with it, I'll jump on in him before we get going. Promise I won't ruin the upholstery."

"No funny business," Benny chided. He gave her a stern look. "I mean it. This is a rental."

"Killjoy. I won't do anything weird. I'll even let you keep the wheel, 'kay?"

He acquiesced. Dean gestured for them all to follow. "Fridges are back here." Not like any of this could possibly get any more surreal. If he collected all the weird in his entire life and added it up, including the shit he'd seen as a paramedic thus far in his career, it still wouldn't equal this shit. He was about ten seconds away from hysterical laughter and a bit of a nervous breakdown. If he rolled with it, maybe he'd come out of this with his family back, and his sanity intact. 

Gabriel caught his mood easily. He stepped over to Meg. "Why don't I take you and Benny down there, huh? Dean-o here needs to tie his shoes and put his coat on like a good boy. Move along."

Dean almost protested. _Almost_. Then he remembered that he didn't want to see Meg basically vacate her body and die. How did it all get so fucked up? How could it be so fucked up and still somehow get fixed? No way. No freaking way. "I'll wait in the car," he said hoarsely.

The three supernatural beings let him go without comment. Thankfully. He grabbed a bottle of water on his way out the door. Then he collapsed into the backseat of the Impala, breathing in the leather and cleaner, and it actually cleared his head slightly. Sam hadn't been joking when he'd said that this was Dean's "happy place." He hadn't understood what that meant until now. Fuck, he really loved this car.

So what the hell was he supposed to be doing? Once upon a time he'd taken classes in shock and trauma counseling. He'd guided families and victims through the worst of a sudden upheaval to their lives. But who saved the saviors? Deep breathing, he supposed. He closed his eyes and regulated each lungful in and out. Counted them evenly. Slowly. It helped, but it also cleared out some space to think. Unbidden, Cas popped into his head. The way his eyes had looked when Dean had been buried inside him. It had looked something like joy. How he smiled afterwards, sated and blissful.

How the same blue had flashed through his eyes just hours later. _"I'll get Sam."_ Dean clenched his fists until his blunt nails bit into his palms. He opened his eyes. He couldn't think about any of that right now. They had a job to do, and nothing would change that. Falling apart wouldn't change that. He was in shock still. He knew that. He was only _human_ , after all. But that humanity had to go on hold for just a little while longer.

"We're ready," Benny said, mercifully breaking his train of thought in favor of bringing back the present.

Dean glanced up, not sure what to expect, but Benny didn't actually look any different. He sat up and slid out of the back seat. "You okay?"

"Right as rain," Benny assured him, calling shotgun to leave Gabriel in the back, who grudgingly agreed to take the short trip downtown to the gate. "Meg promised to be a well-behaved guest."

"Sorry, it's so fucking weird," Dean said.

"Everything is," Benny agreed, putting on his seat belt. "But if we gotta improvise, that's what'll happen." He eyed his best friend. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"No," Dean said truthfully. "I'm not fine with any of this. I'm about ten seconds away from freaking the fuck out. I'll see it through, though. Especially with you guys at my back. Might need a decade of therapy afterwards, but, hey. Insurance'll cover it."

Benny chuckled and even Gabriel found the statement amusing.

It only took ten minutes to get to the site Meg had described. Dean pulled the Impala down a narrow alleyway that seemed completely devoid of... anything. Except some intricate graffiti. "Is this right?" he asked doubtfully.

Benny pointed to the five story brick wall at the end of the alley. "That's it."

Dean eased onto the brake and angled the car as much as he could in front of the wall to block anyone's view. Though, he got the eerie feeling that no one would even notice by design. He almost giggled when he remembered Harry Potter and how there were charms that could make muggles not notice magical places. "Jesus," he muttered. No one remarked on his strange reaction as they exited the car.

"It's a literal door," Dean said flatly, studying the graffiti on the wall. Seriously. They couldn't have been more creative? Granted, it was a nice mural, swirls of color surrounding a plain blue door, but come on. An _actual_ door?

"That's your hangup?" Gabriel asked.

"It's where my mind chose to hang up," Dean answered. He turned to Benny. "So, how does this go down?"

The vampire rolled his shoulders. "If it's like last time, I'll be dropped off close to where this door leads. It'll be the exit we'll use, so stay close. Twenty-four hours and that's probably all she wrote. But Meg and I will get them back." He rubbed his hands together vigorously and bounced on the balls of his feet, psyching himself up. "Time to get a move on."

Gabriel stepped over to Dean's left, holding a razor sharp machete. He didn't offer it to him, but held it forward slightly for him to take, if he wanted to. Dean took it.

"Benny," he said, strained.

"Store me next to Meg and it'll be fine," he quipped with painfully forced lightness.

"You're coming back." He attempted to make it not sound like a question.

Suddenly, he was wrapped up in a fierce bear hug. They were both trembling and both ignoring it. "I'm coming back," Benny assured him against his temple. "After all you done for me, I can bring back your brother and your angel boyfriend." He pulled back roughly. Cleared his throat. "Go ahead," he said, the picture, though not the sound, of calm.

"I'll always owe you for this," Dean murmured. He lifted his arm and swung the blade as hard as he could in a clean line through Benny's neck. For a split second he marveled how little resistance the blade met with. 

He didn't see Benny's body fall. Gabriel, who may have been a fun-loving dick, still did his best to belay further damage to Dean's mental health. He'd jumped in front of Dean and blinked himself and Benny away before Dean had even finished his swing.

He dropped the machete to the ground with a clang. Slowly dragged himself to the back of his car. Climbed up on the trunk. Laid back against the window. Tried not to feel sick in twenty different ways.

xXx

Dean had no idea how long he laid there, but the sky was just beginning to turn gray with the dawn when he felt someone approach him. He darted to a sitting position, body on full alert.

"Easy there, cowboy," Sheriff Jody Mills said. She eased up onto the back of the car next to Dean. Before he could even ask, she explained, "that archangel friend of yours told us what was going on. Where to find you. How you holding on, kid?"

"Dunno," Dean said. "Trying not to process anything until it's over."

"Crazy days," she said.

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Jody leaned back on her hands and sighed. "The good thing is that you have a lot of people looking out for you, Winchester. That ain't no small thing."

A wry smile tipped his lips up. "Don't really need a babysitter."

She scoffed. "Bobby wouldn't stop grumping, so here I am. You've known him a long time, I'm guessing."

"Probably forever," Dean answered. "He and my dad got into the force at the same time. Partners for a time before Bobby moved to captain the supernatural team, and my dad turned down a bunch of promotions to stay on as a detective."

"Why didn't you or Sam follow in his footsteps?"

Dean leaned back, mirroring Jody's lounging position. "I was set to before he was killed in action."

She winced. "I'm so sorry. You don't have to tell me."

He jerked his shoulder up in a dismissive shrug. "It was a long time ago. Made the news for weeks here. Lawrence was a lot calmer back then. Not a whole lot of supernatural occurrences. The hospital was new, and actually set up here because it was a lower risk area, and any number of patients could be transferred from other hospitals safely. Bobby kinda founded the supernatural department on the police force, and he and my dad and Victor Henriksen were the only people on it full time."

She raised her eyebrows. "Hard-ass Fed Victor?"

Dean inclined his head. "Yep. Anyway, they answered a call for help on the late shift. Possible demonic activity. Turned out to be a pretty high ranking guy named Azazel. Recruiting in the neighborhood. My dad and Vic took down a bunch of the demons, but didn't get Azazel. Then, he came after the family. Our house was warded, but he still got in. I was almost five. Sammy wasn't even a year old." He paused and swallowed as the words grew thicker.

Realization dawned on Jody's face. "Your childhood exposure."

He tapped his nose in ascent. "That's the one. It was worse for Sam because he was a baby. We ended up being the subject of a lot of studies at the hospital for years while the doctors came up with best practices on how to treat demon blood exposure. It sucked." He coughed and forced a casual tone. "Azazel got to my mom. The whole house burned. And Dad..." he dipped his head and gave up trying to sound like none of it bothered him anymore. "Dad spent the rest of his career on revenge. Rest of his life. Bobby did what he could, but his career almost went down with Dad's. So, he quit. Left me and Sam with Bobby and Ellen, and went all over the country hunting Azazel and every other monster he came across. He only came back maybe twice a year."

He fell silent again, and Jody had a look of processing concentration on her face. Then her expression softened. "I can see why you wanted to stay out of the force," she said kindly, understanding on some deeper level than it was time to explore.

"When I got old enough to understand it all, I really considered it," Dean said. "I had a rough time without Dad and Mom around. Sam never really knew John, except as the guy who showed up on Christmas if he remembered. And he never knew Mom at all. He didn't really have anyone to miss. I got into enough trouble, but then, Dad came back and so did Azazel. I was seventeen."

"Oh, no," Jody murmured.

Dean nodded several times. "Long story short, he killed Dad and I killed him. First responders got there and... I saw them working on Dad and putting up the wards to protect me. It was a haze of shit I could barely remember, but this paramedic came over to check me out. He sat with me and had this little hand stamp that was an anti-possession charm." He tapped the underside of his wrist where he'd been stamped. "He just... fucking _sat_ there, y'know? Didn't say much. Just what he was doing washing me off and getting me settled. Didn't try to pull me away or stop me from watching what they were doing. He was real calm, and I thought, 'damn, he's got a really fucking important job.' So, I got my head out of my ass, got my GED, and the rest is history."

Jody didn't say anything. He was kinda thankful for that. She watched him for a time and then turned back to stare absently towards the alley entrance. He didn't mind. It was usually a hell of a story. Had made the Winchester name famous for a long time. People still recognized it every now and then.

As the first real rays of sunlight peeked through a break in the buildings across the street, Jody said, "you're a badass, Dean Winchester."

He didn't try to stop the quick grin. "I hope so, Jody Mills." And for what it was worth, he didn't feel quite so on the edge anymore. That was definitely something. Now, he could much more calmly hurry up and wait.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and co. fight their way through Purgatory.

Purgatory was a larger struggle than anticipated. Every fiber of his being was screaming at Castiel to run and be away from this place. It was... more than dirty. Humid. Stagnant. _Unclean_. The very air was telling him to leave. That he wasn't wanted there. He believed the whisper in the back of his head. It made his very grace ache, and he didn't even know that such a feeling was possible. It all hurt. But he was there for a reason. Sam Winchester was lost here, the danger ever-increasing, and he had no allies. Castiel would find him if it was the last thing he did. The other souls were a secondary concern.

He didn't know where to find Sam, either. He would have thought that the gate would drop them in proximity to each other, but the human must have taken off the second he arrived if Castiel hadn't found him in a day. He'd followed tracks, sounds, even the slightest detectable shift in the air, but no Sam Winchester. Plenty of other things that were drawn to an angel, though. The leviathan were the worst so far. Black and tarry even when contained in vessels. Pungent with slime when Castiel removed their heads. 

He'd gotten wounded somewhere along the way, and he wasn't healing. He couldn't clean the dirt off of himself or his clothing. His grace writhed inside him, sick and struggling to hide. He'd thought that being cut off from Heaven was bad enough, but here his grace felt like it would never recover if he used it. It struggled against him. It wanted to leave. Castiel clenched a fist over his chest, as if that would help. "Not yet," he muttered.

Sam. He had to find Sam. The sight lines were abysmal, so tracking him from the ground was probably a lost cause. He looked up and around at the trees. They looked suitable to climb. It would also probably give away his position further, but it didn't matter. If he could just find the direction that Sam had moved, it would be worth whatever hell he brought upon on himself. He couldn't let Dean down. He _wouldn't_.

He scaled the tree quickly and silently, pushing through the wet branches to the top. Dense forest to the west. That was a possibility for good cover. East was open land. Sam wouldn't have gone there. It was empty and sprawling. South was more forest, though rocker terrain. Horrible to fight in with the hidden drops. North. Castiel saw a river. Everything eventually found its way to water, even in Purgatory. Castiel could make out shapes darting towards it and then away again. If he had to make a bet, he would say that Sam would likely find a landmark to follow and make sure he wasn't going in circles. He'd follow the river.

Quickly, Castiel climbed down and turned himself towards the river. He had a lot of ground to cover if he hoped to make it there before the anemic daylight gave up.

xXx

Sam had run so far and for so long that he was starting to agree with his brother that jogging was the worst possible torture in the world. He kept glancing back as he tore through the woods as fast as he could go, stumbling, and barely keeping his footing. He gripped his left arm tightly to stem the flow of blood and keep the wound from dripping too much as he kept running. Running. He crashed through the trees onto a riverbank and wasn't able to stop himself until he'd made it ankles deep in the icy cold water.

He doubled forward in the frigid water, hands on his knees, heaving in deep breaths. Then he snapped his head up and looked all around. No one. He was safe for the moment. He splashed down the river a short way to an outcropping of large rocks that would at least keep him invisible from a few directions. He knelt down in the silt and rolled his sleeve up gingerly, examining the wound. Not too bad. Mostly superficial. Might not even need stitches. He hissed through his teeth and prodded at it. It had almost stopped bleeding. "Dammit," he muttered. "What the hell were those things?"

They'd meant business, whatever they were. Oozing black blood and seemingly indestructible. But he'd managed to break away from them with a consolation prize when the vampires jumped them. He washed his wound carefully in the cold running water and prayed for no infection later. Then he pulled out the large, cobbled-together blade he'd relieved one of the vampires of. Must have been homemade. It was little more than an old school hatchet made of sharp stone and wood, like he'd made as a kid, only far more deadly and sharp. All it had to do was hold together long enough for him to get the hell out of there, though. 

If he survived that long.

How was he supposed to find the exit? Purgatory seemed pretty never ending as far as he could tell. He doubted that anyone already here would be willing to help him out.

Dammit. It wasn't part of the plan. What was he supposed to do now?

He wasn't a fighter. He was a doctor. Totally the opposite. _Shit._ He crouched down lower as sound approached from downriver. He cautiously peeked out from behind the boulder and saw a handful of, who he guessed, were vampires. He glanced to his arm. Fuck. They might have picked up his scent. He grasped his weapon tighter, remembering every bit of lore and training he'd ever had. The medical training didn't help. All that said was to incapacitate without killing, and he didn't have any dead blood to accomplish that particular task. Beheading was the lethal option, but he realized with some dread that he hadn't been here long enough to be completely hardened. He'd fight for his life the same as any human, but killing... he was a _doctor_. Kill or be killed was not a situation for a person like him.

He was going to die here. But he'd at least resolved to go down fighting. He silently apologized to his brother as he jumped out of cover and towards the small group of vampires the second their backs were turned. His blade sliced through the air, forward and back, beheading two of them straight off. He almost had time to be amazed at himself. Then it felt like a freight train hit him in the back.

He smacked the ground hard, splashing into the water as a pair of deathly cold hands closed around his neck. The vampire was unbelievably strong. And that was saying something. Sam had wrestled down some angry non-humans in his ER rotations. He tried to suck in a breath, but no air passed through his collapsing windpipe. He grabbed at the forearms holding him down. A distant part of his mind knew that struggling was only going to make him die faster at this point, but he couldn't just go down like this. Not in freaking Purgatory!

Spots swam before his eyes. He was fading. Nothing flashed through his mind. No good memories, the people he loved, just the dry facts of what oxygen deprivation did to the human brain. Then the pressure was suddenly gone in a spray of blood and gore. Sam's vision cleared just in time to see a black dress shoe crash into the body pinning him down and it tumbled off of him.

"Sam."

Sam gasped, coughed, rolled to his side, and gagged. "Cas," he rasped. "What the hell? How?"

The angel knelt down and gingerly helped Sam up when he was finally ready. "I spotted the vampires hunting you. I was hoping that I would find you before it was too late."

"How did you even get here? How did _I_ even get here?"

"It's safe for now," he said, ignoring the question, and they both collapsed onto the riverbank. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and soaked it in the water, offering it to Sam to clean himself with.

He mopped his face gratefully. "Swooping in at the last minute. My hero," he deadpanned. 

"I'm sorry that I couldn't locate you sooner."

"Not your fault," Sam assured him. "What's going on? What happened? One minute I was standing in that clearing and the next second I was here."

"Zachariah sent you here," Castiel said grimly. "I was able to follow."

"You left Dean and the others?" Sam said incredulously. "Can they really take on Zachariah and Raphael alone?"

"They don't have to," Castiel answered, scouting the area with shrewd eyes. "I killed Zachariah myself. Raphael is gone as well. I'm not sure if he's dead, though he should no longer be much of a threat by himself."

"Shit," Sam whispered. He swallowed hard when the angel met his gaze. "And Dean?"

His lips pulled down in a grimace. "If we get out of this alive, your brother is likely to be quite displeased with me."

"He didn't agree to you jumping into the portal after me," Sam said flatly.

"If didn't give him the chance to protest."

"That's not gonna go over well," Sam pointed out.

"I know," Castiel said. "But I had to do this. You're his brother and my friend. And I can help you. It was more practical for me to come here than Dean. We couldn't leave you alone, of course. You wouldn't survive long on your own."

"I'm getting that," Sam answered, checking over his wound one more time to ensure it had stopped bleeding. "I mean, I've got some survival skills and all, but I'm pretty sure there are monsters here who have never been upstairs."

"You would be correct," Castiel confirmed, turning back to scan their surroundings. 

"I met a few of them. Awful things. Looked like people, but they had these... mouths. And they bled black. And didn't die. Well, not until I cut one of their heads off and it rolled off a cliff."

"Leviathan," Castiel said shortly. "They're immortal. Well, as far as I know. They will reform if left alone for long enough."

"Fantastic," Sam said distastefully. He finished cleaned himself and stood, Castiel following. "So, do you know where the exit is, or are we flying blind?"

Castiel tilted his head, considering. "I can sense... something. I'm not sure what. But I believe we should continue north. Follow the river."

"That's what I planned when I found it," Sam confirmed. "You got a weapon?"

Castiel held up his angel blade. Sam nodded and they set off together.

xXx 

"Home sweet home?" Meg quipped, looking around with interest.

"Yeah," Benny said grimly. "Not so bad for the acreage, but the neighbors always suck."

"Literally." She pointed towards the tree line. "Lots of your friends out there."

Benny flashed a toothy smile. "Aw, now, they ain't _that_ charming."

"Perish the thought. Okay, what's the plan?"

Benny pointed away from the trees. "River. Pretty sure Sam and Cas'll be following it, even if they don't know where they're going. It's the best stable landmark. And luckily it leads pretty near where they need to go. There's some hills down the way. That's where the exit is."

She followed his direction, shielding her eyes from the waning sun. "We gonna be able to make it back here in time?"

Benny started trudging towards the river. "We don't need to. Pretty sure we'll get spit out near the door even if we use the other exit."

"Pretty sure?"

He shrugged. "They can be kinda squirrely when more than one's open at a time. Either way, we won't be far from home once we get out."

"That's comforting," Meg said distractedly, peering all around them. Benny seemed more focused, keeping his eyes forward and moving them at the quick pace towards their goal. It didn't take long before they encountered a smattering of bodies, fresh kills. "Vamps."

"Sure enough," Benny drawled, bending down to examine them briefly.

"Sam?"

"Probably," Benny confirmed. "Some weapons missing, a bit haphazard on the kills. Inexperienced. Unless it's one of the other humans, it's probably him." He stood up, grabbing two Purgatory blades, passing one to Meg.

"You think the other humans came here?"

"Fair to assume. Unless the spell didn't work right. Probably did, though."

"You're super optimistic. I'm so glad I came with."

"Purgatory brings out the light-hearted gent in me."

She chuckled. "Whatever. Not like I mind killing a few monsters. Earth gets pretty boring with all the no murder laws and such." She said it so casually that it forced a sharp laugh out of Benny.

"Missing the murder and mayhem of Hell?"

"Sometimes," she shrugged. "Demon, right?"

"Right," he mused. "But you haven't been one all that long, have you?"

"In relative terms, no. I mean, I still _feel_ things from time to time, but not much of the warm fuzzies. I remember them, though, the good feelings. That's probably why I was allowed a visa. I could take or leave torturing souls, y'know?"

"That's good to hear," Benny said conversationally. "I get it, though. The cravings and shit you have to repress just to stay with 'polite society' and all that mess. I prefer it, myself, but it took some getting used to."

Meg jogged up beside him with a smirk. Best she could do. "True. You ever get jealous of humans?"

He eyed her. "Jealous that I'm not one of 'em?"

"Yeah."

He tipped a shoulder up. "Guess I do. Every now and then."

She bumped his shoulder. "That's what keeps you honest."

"Hope so."

Meg paused them both with a hand on Benny's arm. She nodded forward. "Check it out." Two figures were slowly moving up the treeline, turned away. "That them?"

"It would suck if we called out and it wasn't," Benny answered wryly.

"No time like the present." She cupped her hands around her lips. "Sam! Clarence!"

The pair upriver swung around in surprise. "Holy shit!" Sam called back. They met each other on the bank, Sam's eyes wide and blinking shocked between Benny and Meg. "How did..." he trailed off and studied the pair for a moment. "Are you guys dead?"

Completely unperturbed, Meg gave him a thumb's up, and Benny shrugged. "More or less. But we can get out of here. Dean's keepin' us on ice."

Sam's face twisted, but he chose to say nothing about it. "I'm assuming you came because you know where the exit is."

"I do," Benny said. "Ain't far from here."

Sam squinted and looked up at the sky. "Will we make it before nightfall, or should we find a place to camp?"

"Never really gets true dark here," Benny answered. "It's part of what can make people go crazy. Eternally the same time of day."

"I've already lost track of the time," Sam admitted. 

"We need to get the hell out of here," Meg said.

Benny motioned for them to follow and they made their way upriver in the same direction that Sam and Castiel had been traveling before. They were silent, watchful, and Sam was a lot more comfortable now that he had his friends around him. 

And he did not miss the significance of them actually being here. He figured that Dean was probably a wreck up there, whether or not he'd agreed to let them come. Especially Cas. And then Benny. He knew his brother had a hangup or two about the people he loved, but with his brother, best friend, and boyfriend all down in Purgatory, he likely thought he'd never see any of them again. "Who stayed with Dean?" he asked.

Benny caught on to his tone. "We told Bobby'n them."

"You think that's good enough?" he asked with a pointed look.

"Has to be," he answered with a helpless spread of his hands. "Dean didn't like it, but Bobby knows that. Someone'll look out for him."

"All the more reason we should get home sooner," Castiel said, voice tight.

"Y'all prepared to fight?" Benny asked suddenly.

All eyes turned to him. Castiel said, "yes."

"Good," Benny said. "'Cause with an angel in our midst, we're gonna get a lot of interest."

Meg actually appeared slightly pleased at the idea. "We can take it."

"Should I leave?" Castiel asked worriedly. "I don't want to put any of you in more danger than necessary. And Sam will be well protected with the two of you here now."

"Don't matter," Benny said. "We're not too far from the goal. But we got company. We're being tracked."

They began to close ranks unconsciously, Sam towards the middle of the group, and the rest taking a direction to scout. Meg said, "what are they?"

"Smells like werewolves," Benny answered. "With a dash of something else."

The "something else" turned out to be djinn. They rushed the group from all sides, Sam holding his ground while Meg, Benny, and Castiel jumped forward into the fray.

Meg had the djinn in seconds. It grabbed her bare hand and she grinned at the dirty, tattooed woman. "You don't want my dreams, lady," she snarled before jamming her patched together blade into the djinn's chest and yanked upward. In the next second, she was over by Benny to assist. The stronger of the three werewolves had managed to knock Benny's weapon away and they were locked together in a test of strength that the monster was winning. It looked like Benny was trying to hold back his nature, costing him some strength of his own.

"The hell are you _doing_?" Meg demanded, swinging her blade forcefully to behead the wolf. "Give it to 'em, Lafitte!"

Benny stumbled back and almost lost his footing, but was up again in moments, teeth elongated as he charged the female werewolf who was trying to find an opening to Sam. Castiel dispatched the last one easily with his angel blade, and a moment later they were back together, Benny massaging his jaw as he forced his fangs away.

"Anyone injured?" Sam asked. A chorus of "no" answered his question.

Benny turned them back in the right direction. "Keep moving," he said. "We'll only attract more uglies standing still."

They made good time with their strategy of hiding from larger groups and engaging smaller gangs of monsters. Sam didn't like the way that the rest of them appeared to be protecting him more than anything, but he accepted it. Aside from him, they all appeared to be seasoned fighters. With that, Sam would only hold them back unless they got overwhelmed. His pride didn't need saving here as much as his life.

When they reached a bend in the river, Benny veered off to the steep bank. They clambered up the wet mix of dirt and rocks until they exited to a shallow tree line and a rocky slope covered in small brush. They could feel the sucking energy of the exit before they saw it, but once Sam stepped into the open, there was a flash of dull white light and the portal stretched itself open.

"We gotta move," Sam said. "How am I getting you two out of here?" He asked Benny and Meg.  
"Blood spell," Benny explained quickly. "Cut your arm and say the spell, and I can hitch a ride. Meg here can possess you for the ride out."

Sam dug out his utility knife and pressed it to his forearm, trying not to think about how dirty it was. "I'm ready, Benny, what's the spell?" Benny told him the words and Sam sliced his arm open, grinding his teeth against the pain and reciting the spell. His arm flared hot with orange light as Benny's soul crammed itself into his very veins. Castiel held him up as he recovered and cleared his throat. "Your turn, Meg," he said hoarsely.

"My pleasure," she grinned, body dissolving into writhing black smoke. 

It felt like he was being filled to the brim when she entered his body. The weirdest sensation ever. He could sense her in there, deeply, like she was trying to stay as out of the way as possible; a guest. He tried not to think too hard about it and grabbed Castiel's arm for balance as they trudged to the exit.

"Is this gonna work for you?" he called over the howling wind.

"One way to find out!" Castiel yelled back. He kept a tight hold on Sam as they both jumped through the portal.

xXx

Dean heard the portal grinding open with the same bone-chilling screech that it had made before. But it wasn't at the wall where they'd gone before.

"Sounds like it's coming from the woods," Jody said as they jumped off the back of the Impala and ran from the alley to the back of the strip mall. Sure enough, they could see light pulsing from a distance behind the trees and they followed it. "That better be them."

"It's them," Dean answered, heart pounding as he followed her. They stopped just out of sight of the portal, and after several breathless seconds, Sam tumbled out followed by Castiel.

Dean ran to his brother, sweeping him up in a tight hug and pulling him away from the gate. "You okay, Sammy?" he asked breathlessly, already checking his brother over for injury. The wind whipped around them, getting more intense, and Dean dragged them back further while Castiel tried to take care of sealing the portal for good. He stood in front of it, arms outstretched chanting.

Dean ducked his head against the gale force winds, turning away and leading Sam back to the trees.

"I'm okay," Sam assured him, clutching his forearm tightly, "but we need to get back to the bunker fast. Benny and Meg want out."

Dean gave a cursory check of Sam's others wounds, ready to call back to Castiel and Jody, but Jody yelled, "Cas, what are you doing?!"

Sam and Dean both turned back, and before he'd even processed what he was seeing, Dean was running. The closer he got, the more the wind buffeted him, nearly knocking him down. An echoing screech sounded from the portal like it was a monster being tortured.

Castiel didn't turn to look, but still tossed his hand out behind him. "Dean, don't!" he yelled over the cacophony. "You have to go back! Don't touch me, please!" Dean froze.

It was hurting him. Whatever he was doing was hurting him. Dean stared transfixed as he took a step forward towards the howling wind. He knew it was stupid. He should do exactly what Cas was yelling at him to. The sensible part of his brain was screaming in protest as he fought to anchor his feet in the dirt to keep from being blown backwards. "Cas!" he yelled, the wind whipping away his words. Unfortunately the sensible part of his brain didn't seem to be the EMT part, and only registered that _Cas was in pain_. He could see it plain as day, and it was all he needed to know. Cas was trapped in the middle of a hurricane and it was _killing him_. The only thing that registered to Dean was, _get the fuck in there and save your angel._

Another step forward and then another. Dean braced his forearm over his eyes to block the needle pricks of wind and painful bright light. He was getting close enough now that he couldn't hear anything but the roar of, what he could now see, were souls shrieking out of the portal and towards the blinding golden light in the center of Castiel's chest. It was like the angel was trying to suck in a hurricane. Though, Dean was fairly certain that was _exactly_ what he was doing.

He was only five feet away from the angel now, and he could feel his exposed skin burning with the intensity of the light; the wind like a blinding series of punches to his body. "Cas, don't do this!" he tried to shout. He couldn't even hear himself, but angel hearing must have been something different because Castiel turned his head.

_Oh, God_. 

He was in so much pain. It barely masked the unreal fear in his eyes. "Dean," he said, and it sounded broken. Final.

Dean couldn't take another step through the gale. He wasn't strong enough. A particularly violent gust knocked him back and he threw his hands out to brace himself.

Castiel caught him by the shoulder and a searing pain shot through Dean's arm so intense that he would have fallen to his knees had it not been for Castiel's unholy strength. He could barely see through his blinding tears of anger and pain, but the look of crushed finality was unmistakable on Cas's face. "I'm sorry, Dean. Goodbye."

And then everything was gone. No sound. No wind. No pain. No light. No nothing. Dean dimly felt his body hit the ground limply, but it was nothing compared to the scorching brand on his shoulder. In times like these, he felt it best to take his own professional advice and pass the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have been following my notes here, and my Tumblr, you'll know that recently this fic, and another, ran into some problems. Someone stole them and attempted to publish them for profit, thus getting me into a bit of trouble that had to be cleared up. Thankfully, I was able to get some legal advice, prove that I wasn't the one trying to profit off of my own fics, and now we're back in business. I should be able to finish this fic for y'all with no worries now. Thank you for your support.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean learns the aftermath of battle through Purgatory and Castiel's bold move to save everyone.

"You waking up?"

" _Hng._ "

"Welcome back, jerk."

"B'ch."

"Open your damn eyes, Dean, you're not dead."

He tried. He really did, but holy shit on toast, it hurt just to do that much. He moaned. Or tried to, but his lungs were aching.

"Hang on, hang on, let me just..." there was a pause. A small click. 

Sweet, sweet relief flowed, coursing cold and then flashing warm through his body. " _Fuuuuuuck_ ," he breathed.

"That helping? Sorry, I didn't wanna give you too much morphine while you were still asleep. Can you open your eyes now?"

Dean cracked his eyes open slowly. The throbbing in his head subsided rapidly, though it was still hard to focus and he felt rubbed raw. At least the morphine had beaten back the pain to a manageable level. "I feel like hell, Sammy," he whispered, voice long gone.

"You look it, too," an amused voice answered for his brother.

"Benny?" Dean tried to turn his head, but his body was having none of that nonsense.

His partner saved him the trouble by popping into his line of vision over Sam's shoulder from where his brother sat on the stool right next to the bed. "Welcome back, partner. Damn fine mess you made of yourself. Barely got you back here in one piece."

"How bad?" Dean rasped.

Sam's face scrunched, though Dean couldn't tell if it was more anger or threat of tears. "Bad," was all he said with a suspicious hitch to his voice.

Dean turned his eyes to Benny. "You're lucky it was me there. You coded on the way in. But Sam's skills and all the shitty driving I learned from you, got you here in time."

"That was a stupid stunt you pulled," Sam added more firmly. "You pretty much ran into the middle of a nuclear blast."

"Worth it if I-" suddenly he tried to shoot up in the bed. He only managed to move himself enough to concern Benny into putting his hands on Dean's chest and push him back down. "Cas," Dean demanded. "Where is he?"

Sam's lips pinched together.

Benny said, "gone, brother. Don't know where."

"No," Dean moaned. "I tried to... he tried to... fucking idiot angel. He took all the souls. I saw him." His voice barely carried, thick though it was with tears. He couldn't handle this shit. He just _couldn't take it._. He couldn't lose Castiel. It was too much, too soon. Had it all been...? Had Cas been with him because he knew what was going to happen? Could Dean really believe that? Did he have a choice?

"Hey, whoa," Sam said soothingly, leaning forward with a tissue to wipe his brother's eyes. "Is the pain still that bad? I can't really give you anything else."

Dean shook his head, and it felt like he was being stabbed with a dozen ice picks in his brain. "It's Cas," he managed, letting the tears fall freely, since he had no other choice. "Is he dead?"

"No idea," Sam answered. "It was like... well, it was like he disappeared. He sucked up the portal and all these lights. Guess they were the souls, and then it was like he... dunno... imploded or something and then there was nothing left."

Dean tried to raise his hand to scrub at his eyes, but an extra pain like a scorching burn stopped him. "Ow, shit," he breathed.

"Oh, yeah," Sam said. "You got a hell of a burn on your shoulder." He gingerly peeled up the sleeve of Dean's hospital shirt and then carefully lifted the bandages for him to see.

"What is it?" Dean asked, craning his neck and trying to twist his arm to see his shoulder. The more he moved in small increments, the less it hurt. And the morphine was rapidly reaching full efficacy. "Got a mirror?"

Benny picked up a hand mirror from the end table and passed it to Dean. He took it with his right hand and tilted it up until he had a clear view of his left shoulder. His hand shook, but he could still see it. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. It was a clear outline of a palm and fingers.

"It's where Cas grabbed me. When I almost fell. It's his fucking hand print." He didn't know how to process that.

"You were too close to the blast," Benny said. "There was some shock wave right when the gate closed, and it knocked you back. You hit a tree."

"Of course I did," Dean muttered. Must have been his fucking consolation prize for blacking out right in the middle of the action. "Am I gonna be okay?"

Sam sat up straight. "You will be. But, Dean, it's gonna be a long recovery process. You've already been out for three days. Are those meds working enough so we can test your reflexes and stuff?"

"How are you even my doctor? That's a pretty big conflict of interest." 

Sam shrugged and Benny said, "you should have _heard_ him. Screaming and yelling at everyone not to touch you. Didn't even try to go to the main ER; he brought you right here to the VIP wing. Thought he was gonna throw some punches if they didn't let us in."

"We should get some perks after what we've been through," Sam said with an edge. "Besides, Dr. Barnes is technically your attending. She's allowing my oversight of your case."

"I'm glad. I don't trust anyone as much as you. So, go on, get to it," Dean sighed, giving the mirror back and laying down as far into the mattress as he could.

Sam set to checking from the top down. Dean let him, patiently answering his questions and going through the same routine he'd had to administer to other people countless times. Until... "hold up, Sammy."

His brother looked up with concern. "What's up?"

"Gimme a sec. Can't feel... shit. Sam..." his voice dropped low. "I can't feel my legs, man. Can't tell if I'm wiggling my toes or not." He hadn't noticed with the chorus of pain and narcotics taking all this focus.

Sam grabbed the blanket and pulled it up higher. "You're not," he said after a moment and then pulled the cover back down, stumbling back heavily into the chair. "Shit, Dean-"

"Don't." Dean demanded sharply. "Don't, Sam. It's not the end of the world. We stopped that for now."

"Stop making jokes," Sam said, pained.

"I'm not. We can just... I dunno. Maybe the angels? Maybe they could do something. Cas healed me before."

"They're gone, too," Benny answered. "Gabriel and Balthazar disappeared right after we got back."

"I've tried praying to them or whatever, but nothing so far. I was hoping they'd at least have some news about Cas," Sam added.

"Then we'll keep trying," Dean insisted forcefully over the lump of panic trying to hook its spines in his throat. It was bad enough that they might have lost Castiel forever, but to think about not walking on top of it? No way. Now was not the time. "We've all earned a vacation. The angels, too."

Wisely, neither Sam nor Benny saw fit to say argue. Sam picked up the tablet from the bedside table and swiped it on, making notes in Dean's chart. "We have to get you back to imaging," he said softly, suspiciously like he might bust out the waterworks any time now. Dean desperately hoped he didn't. He wouldn't be able to hold it back himself. "We couldn't tell the extent of the damage before because of all the swelling."

"I'm gonna be fine, Sammy," he said. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"I know," he agreed with a distinct disagreeing look. "It's scheduled in a few hours. Get some rest until then, all right? I have to go on my rounds."

Deflect and ignore. Perfect Winchester style. "Have at it," Dean said. He was nothing if not supportive of that attitude because Sam usually wanted to have the feelings talks instead of the silent coping that Dean preferred. 

Sam stood, holding the tablet close to his chest. "We should all keep praying to the angels to get their asses back down here."

"Better than watching daytime TV," Dean quipped. 

"Right," Sam said distractedly. "See you in a while."

The second he was out the door, Benny decided to take point. "Fuck you, Dean," he growled, taking over Sam's abandoned seat. 

"I don't care," Dean said, turning his face up to the ceiling and counting the pinprick holes in the tiles.

"You should," Benny insisted heatedly. "You're lucky you can't remember what we've been through in the last few days, but it was _bad_ , brother. Sam's barely holding it together."

"Well, he has to," Dean bit. "We all fucking have to, all right? What the hell's the point of falling apart? I'm not dead. And right now, that's something. I appreciate my brother needing to freak out, I do, but that ain't helping anything."

Benny's expression softened slightly. "Yeah. I'm real sorry, Dean."

Dean held his hand out, palm up, and Benny took it. "Not your fault. If anything, it was mine. Cas told me to get back and I didn't."

"Didn't think you would," Benny said with a sad smile. "You never did run the other direction when your loved ones were involved."

"I'd do it again. Any of it. For you, too. I don't regret anything."

"That don't surprise me in the least."

Dean smiled and closed his eyes, finally drifting on the painkillers. Benny stayed for several more minutes, and left when Dean fell into a light sleep.

He stirred slightly when the orderlies wheeled him down to imaging, Sam in tow. He dozed again during the actual MRI.

Later, he opened his eyes half-way when a murmured conversation near the door pulled him back from his haze.

"He's not going to accept that," Sam was saying in a fierce stage whisper.

"Well, he'll have to," a female voice answered. It sounded like Pamela, but at such a low volume he couldn't be sure, and didn't really have the energy to turn his head. A machine beeped near his head and he felt a rush through his veins. Another dose of morphine. He closed his eyes, thankful for the relief.

"There has to be _something_ we can do." Sam never sounded that pleading. Even when he wanted to watch a foreign film and Dean had been hogging the remote for hours.

"There is," possibly-Pamela answered. "We have to tell him the truth and the options for PT. Sam, I don't like this any more than you do, but the damage to his spine is severe. You and I both have seen patients with less damage never walk again."

"Yeah, well, those people weren't Dean."

_You tell her, Sammy._

The voices started to become thick and milky as the drugs tugged at Dean to fall asleep again. In some part of his mind, he was scared shitless. They were talking about him never regaining the ability to walk. But for now, the processing centers in his brain were having none of it. Sleep. He needed to sleep. He could be scared tomorrow. Or the next day. Sleep.

xXx

He was dreaming. He sat up in his bed back at the bunker, unable to feel the sheets, the mattress, the air conditioning, anything. It looked all right. His subconscious had done a fine job of recreating all the important parts, enough so that when he looked around, he could sense that some things were out of place, but couldn't pinpoint exactly which things were.

He stood and found himself completely dressed in jeans and a dark red button down. No boots. When he opened the door, the hall was dark and silent. "Sam?" he ventured. The sound was oddly muffled.

No one answered.

The rest of the bunker was empty as he explored room by room, all the lights off, but in his dream he saw clearly in the blackness. Finally, he made his way to the war room and blinked. A single green desk lamp lit the room weakly. A man sat at the far end of the table, his youngish features cast in stark relief from the only light in the room.

"Hello, Dean," the man said in casual tone. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Squinting, Dean took a step forward. That voice was incredibly familiar. And his face... "You look familiar," he said cautiously. Something about the man's dark hair and eyes... "Dad?" 

The younger version of John Winchester smiled at him, though there was no warmth in it. "I thought this body would be the best to approach you in. I've seen how much you loved and admired your father."

The light bulb in Dean's head clicked on. "Michael."

This time, the man... _angel_ looked extremely pleased. "Yes."

"Am I dreaming?"

He shrugged. "Somewhat. You are asleep. This is the only way that I can communicate with you directly. You are warded." He nodded towards Dean's chest and Dean rubbed over his ribs. Right. Castiel's branding. 

"Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here." He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. The shadows that moved with him made Dean uneasy.

"It's not a social call."

Michael gestured out. "Please have a seat."

It sounded like a command that Dean was compelled to comply with. He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the long table. "I won't say yes to you using my body as a vessel to start the Apocalypse."

The smile didn't waver from Michael's face in the slightest. "It's already started, Dean. My brothers saw to that."

Dean leaned forward, mirroring Michael's position. "Yeah, and we stopped them. We can stop the rest, too."

"You can't stop God's plan," Michael said with a strange hint of sadness in his voice. "No one can. We all must play our parts."

"Not everyone thinks that what Zach and Raph did was part of God's plan."

"Perhaps not," Michael allowed. "However, it was the wrong means to the right end. I need a sword - a vessel - to defeat Lucifer. I'd like that to be you."

Dean shoved back, the chair legs clacking against the floor. "Then you're screwed before you've even started. I won't say yes. I'm not gonna be the reason the world ends. Sorry, pal. You're gonna be vessel-less."

The eerie blue light in Michael's eyes sharpened and his lips thinned. "You seem to be mistaken, Dean. You are my ideal vessel, yes, but not my only one."

Dread curled itself tightly around his heart. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Any one of John Winchester's bloodline will do as a suitable vessel. You would be the strongest. The destined vessel, if you will, but it doesn't have to be you."

Dean gritted his teeth. There was always something else to contend with. This whole fucking Apocalypse business was starting to feel like one step forward and two steps back. Even so, he could hang on to the shreds of his free will until the bitter end, if it came to that. Zachariah and Raphael hadn't planned on them being a problem, so clearly fate didn't much matter in the grand scheme of things. Then again, if he told Michael to fuck off for real, what was to stop him from going to any of his father's bloodline? There were a lot of Winchesters wandering the Earth. Sam was out because of his so-called "destiny" to be Lucifer's vessel, but there were plenty relatives on his father's side who Dean didn't even know personally. He couldn't track them all down and warn them. And even if he did, there was no telling what kind of manipulation Michael could come up with to coerce any of them into saying yes. Fuck. He was starting to see just how screwed he probably was.

"I can heal you," Michael said suddenly, derailing Dean's thoughts. Fuck, the angel could probably tell everything that he was thinking if he was walking in his dreams. It was all in his head, after all.

"I don't..." he trailed off. He didn't what? Didn't want to be healed? Didn't want to walk again? What?

"You already know, don't you?" The sympathy sounded forced. "You know you won't walk again like this. You sensed how bad it was before anyone even said anything to you. You're smart, Dean. Highly trained to assess injury. I can help you. In exchange for letting me use your body to fight Lucifer, I will heal everything. And until it's time for me to fight, I'll stay in the background. You'll have full control over your body and mind. All I ask is that you allow me to defeat Lucifer. Then I'll return to Heaven."

"Right," Dean said dispassionately. "That's a hell of sweet deal you're offering while not telling me any of the hundred fucking strings attached, not counting the whole damn world ending."

"Let me paint a picture for you," Michael said, hard, passionate. "This world is dying, Dean. Monsters, demons, tainted souls. It must be cleansed. It must be purified. The more that humanity is left this way, the worse it becomes. Generation after generation poisons this creation more and more. But we have the opportunity to change that. We can save countless souls. You will be saved. Sam will be saved. All those you care about will be saved."

Hell of an elevator pitch. "What about Cas and all those souls Zachariah put into Purgatory? They shouldn't be there."

Michael sat back a little and his expression grew thoughtful. "If you say yes to me, we will free those souls and take them to Heaven."

"Just like that?"

"Yes," he said simply, and Dean believed him. "And we will find Castiel. I know that he means a great deal to you."

Dean shifted uncomfortably. Michael probably _did_ know his mind better than anyone since he was sort of in it. He made an effort not to think too hard about it. 

MIchael must have sensed something because he stood. "Think about it, Dean," he said. And then he was gone.

xXx

Dean's eyes snapped open. All sensation had returned and he was flat on his back, drenched in a cold sweat, staring up at the hospital ceiling.

Fucking great, angels visiting him in his dreams. He'd have to talk to Sam about quietly warding the room further, just in case. He knew he couldn't be found directly, but if they can read his mind, they'd be able to track him down eventually. Hell, for all he knew, Michael was already aware of the bunker. He couldn't get in it without permission and a spell, but that didn't mean he couldn't hang around for an ambush. Castiel had said that angels needed permission to take a vessel, but Michael was like, the _first_ angel or some shit. Surely he could do things that other angels couldn't if he really wanted to. Fuck. _Fuck_. He wished fervently that Cas was there to talk him down. Heal him. Just... be with him. Not be dead. Where did angels go when they died? They lived in Heaven anyway, so... what was after? 

He painstakingly raised his hands to his face and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until stars burst behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't think about it right now. He had to try to prioritize his list of panic triggers.

"I need you back, Cas," Dean murmured. "If you can hear me... I hope you're out there and you can hear me. I don't want you to be dead. I don't wanna be without you forever. I don't wanna deal with this bullshit all by myself. I don't care if you can't heal me. I don't care if you can't do _anything_. Get back here. Please."

Someone moved in the room and sat down next to the bed. For a brief, thrilling moment Dean thought it was Castiel, but when he opened his eyes, he saw Sam. "I haven't heard anything, either," he said.

Dean nodded, looking up as far as he could to keep the tears from spilling over. It wasn't the time for that. "Got a lot of shit to think about."

"I know." Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll help you, okay? Maybe Gabriel and Balthazar will show up again. Maybe Cas. And they can heal you."

"Where did those two idiot archangels go, anyway?"

Sam shrugged. "Balthazar went after Raphael. Gabriel said something about Cas and left. He's looking for him. If he's out there, Gabriel will find him."

"If Heaven is still locked..." he didn't need to finish that sentence.

"We'll figure it out," Sam insisted. "We always do. Don't shut me out, though. I want to help."

"I know, Sammy," Dean sighed. "It's just so much to take in."

"Should I let you rest?"

"Yeah. Please."

Sam patted his brother's arm and stood. He hovered by the door, clearly wanting to say something else, but he let it go when Dean refused to look at him.

It was too much to take in.

xXx

One week. Honestly, Dean tried his best to keep his spirits up when he wasn't lost in nightmares. Sam and the other doctors were slowly weaning him off of morphine and onto other painkillers, but that didn't help him much. At least on morphine he didn't remember his dreams.

It was an endless cycle of Castiel. Cas. _Cas._ How he'd looked that one glorious night they'd had together. How he'd felt moving with Dean, hot breath ghosting over his skin. His hands so attentive, eyes trained on him and _there_. Always right in the moment. It had been so fucking _good_. They'd slotted together so well.

Every moment is etched in his memory. Especially that strange extra heat that had gone between them. Dean closed his eyes and tried to bring the memory back. It distracted him from everything else. It felt like his soul had nearly left his body when he'd lost himself in Cas. He'd thought that was only a saying romantics used. But regardless, Castiel had touching something in him deeply, and hadn't stuck around long enough for him to know if it was lust, desire, love, or any combination. All he knew was that that stupid, over-protective angel had better not be lost to him forever.

After a week, though? What other options were there? Gabriel and Balthazar didn't appear no matter how much any of them prayed. Jody and Bobby brought him pity updates on their missions all the time, but those had stagnated, too. Charlie hadn't been getting more strange readings, even after expanding her search parameters. Both Benny and Sam reported that supernatural occurrence admissions to the hospital were normal. Victor called from Washington and said that nationally things were looking much the same.

It was almost like none of it had ever happened. Some of them were starting to relax and believe that they'd truly averted disaster. Dean knew better, and he told his brother so when he came in to help with some mobility exercises. Dean still couldn't feel a damn thing below his waist, but Sam insisted on keeping the blood flowing.

He was three reps into the first of ten leg exercises, Sam bending him at the knee and then straightening his leg, Dean white knuckling the bed railing against the sharp stabs of pain radiating up his back. To distract himself, he tossed around for something to talk about and said, "I think Michael can talk to me in my dreams." Wrong distraction. Shit.

Sam's eyes widened and he stopped the exercises, gently guiding Dean's leg back down to the bed and pulling the covers over him. "What are you talking about?"

Dean grimaced. He'd made it sound crazy right out of the gate. "I swear I haven't lost my mind."

Sam scooted the stool up to the head of the bed. "Yeah, I know that, but... what happened?"

Instead of answering directly, Dean asked, "according to the lore, is there any way for an angel to talk to a human when they're sleeping? Like, in their head while unconscious, or something?"

"Not that I've ever heard," Sam answered. "Castiel said it was the one of the checks and balances of angels, that they always had to have permission to enter a vessel. I mean, we don't have much reliable lore on angels to compare it to, of course, but... Dean, seriously, when did this happen?"

Ignoring his brother's concerned expression, he said, "a few nights ago. I dunno, man, it could have just been a dream. I have no idea. But it didn't _feel_ like a dream, y'know? Michael was there and he talked to me. Then I woke up."

Sam was silent for a long moment. Dean didn't even bother to meet his eyes. He knew the expression. It was the same one _everyone_ had had for a solid week now. Concern, pity, sadness, whatever. He didn't need that shit. Sam and Benny were the worst about it. He shouldn't have said anything in the first place.

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

It was a struggle to not roll his eyes. Sam was concerned. He had every right to be. So he choked back the biting irritation to let his brother have his say. He owed Sam that.

"You've... you've been through a lot. And you're on a ton of medications. And you've had severe head trauma and all that. There's so much on your mind and your brain is working really hard to sort everything out."

It was fucking exhausting. "Fuck that, I know, Sam. I'm not saying it was real, okay?" _But it was real. I know it was real._ "I'm just... I don't know why I even said anything." _He won't get it. He thinks I've been through too much to not have PTSD or some other mental break causing this._ "Forget it, okay? It was just a weird dream, is all."

"You need to talk to someone," Sam said quickly before Dean had the chance to shut him down. "I ordered the psych eval, but the nurse's notes say that you just stared at the guy for forty-five minutes."

Dean smirked. Yeah, he'd done that. He felt bad for the psychiatrist; he was only doing his job, but Dean wasn't crazy. He didn't need therapy. Yet. "I'm not going to the psych ward," he said evenly.

"No," Sam agreed. "It wasn't about that. I called him in so that you could have someone to talk to about everything that happened. That's all, I swear."

Dean nodded. "M'not shutting you down or anything, okay? I just wanna work through some of this myself."

"Sure. I get it." The immediate acquiescence surprised Dean. Then again, Sam was probably giving him as much leeway as possible in light of his current shitty situation. He'd take it while the pity lasted. "I'm still keeping an eye on you, though."

Dean snorted. Sam smiled.

"Whatever. I need to do the rest of my rounds. I'll be back after."

Dean waved him away, picking up the TV remote to switch on daytime shows for the noise. Sam closed the door behind him. He waited a few minutes until after the nurses had been in to check his vitals and adjust his IV bags before pressing the button to move the bed into a better sitting position. He cleared his throat. _No one else has the chance to fix this like I do._

"Michael, if you were for real before and I wasn't just having a nightmare, then come on back. We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic suspenseful music plays in the distance*


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes his decision decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I did not have much time to edit this. Please forgive any errors.

The second that Dean called for Michael, he felt sick at what he was planning on doing. Or at least what he was considering doing. He knew that if he said yes that everyone would think he was letting them down. Giving up on the victories they'd fought so hard for. They'd done everything to prevent this very situation, but he didn't think that he was being foolish trying to make things right in such a way. He'd seen a moment when they'd been talking before where Michael had seemed regretful and almost sad that he had to do what he was supposedly destined to. Dean knew fate and destiny were bullshit. For the most part. It was his own free will doing this. Not because he needed to be healed. That was pretty low on his scale of problems at the moment. Michael might try to convince him that he only thought that he had a choice making this decision, but that was only if he won and Dean let him take charge of the Apocalypse. Dean had different plans, though. He hoped he could pull them off. He had to be able to.

He just couldn't let anyone else in his bloodline take the hit. And Dean knew that Michael would be able to persuade someone else to take the fall with him. Granted, Dean himself might not be the best choice in the world, but he _did_ have experience dealing with angels, where he was fairly certain no one else in his bloodline did, besides Sam. That had to count for something, right? It had to give him an edge. Especially since he'd slept with one. He was pretty sure that wouldn't work out to be super helpful, but the insight was still there. Castiel might have been weird by angel standards, but at the end of the day, he still was one.

And he could exploit that tiny weakness he'd seen in Michael, he was positive. If he did this the right way then maybe he could show Michael how wrong he was. Castiel had said that Michael had been in Heaven for centuries without leaving. Longer. And he didn't care at all about what was happening on Earth until the time came for him to follow God's orders. Dean would have thought that Michael was simply heartless, but Castiel had spoken of the archangel kindly in every other regard. It's not like they could really fault the angels for caring little about humanity. Answering prayers tended to be their jobs, and Dean was pretty sure that listening to billions of whiny assholes all the time would be less than endearing. Despite that, there was still that chink in the armor. And every crack could break further.

No one knew more about Michael's plans than Dean and his team, and no other angels were stepping up to take one for the team. If it was true that Raphael was out there forwarding his plan despite his loss, something had to be done. They couldn't ignore it, and Michael would find a vessel. So would Lucifer. Come Hell or high water, it would happen.

The thought of Sam giving into _that_ was more than Dean could handle. No way. If he could save anyone in the process and stop the Apocalypse, Dean Winchester would do it. They couldn't wait. There wasn't much time, and they certainly couldn't hold out for Gabriel and Balthazar _possibly_ being able to get out of Heaven, or wherever they were. Of Castiel _maybe_ not being dead.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. This was a human problem, and Dean was a fucking human. He could work it out. He could get under Michael's skin. He could find the opening. He would. There wasn't any other choice now. The angels thought that they were so high and mighty and better than mere humans, but they underestimated a human backed into a corner. They had to be as dangerous as anyone else.

With that thought in mind, Dean tried his best to relax. Michael wouldn't be able to come to him in the hospital. It was too well protected, especially in the VIP ward. No one would be able to get anywhere near Dean's room who wasn't authorized, and the only people who were, knew better than to let any supernatural being take them for a ride.

He wasn't really a huge fan of learning that a lot of the right calls in this fight probably weren't very good calls. Regardless, he'd have to wait until the last dose of pain meds were in his system until he fell asleep.

xXx

A knock on Dean's hospital room door near the dinner hour woke him from just dozing off. Fuck. He'd nearly been there. He just wanted to get this shit over with.

"Hi there, Dean. You decent?" The perky Southern accent was followed by one of the most pointy, scrawny guys Dean had ever laid eyes on.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man sidled into the room with a bright smile and flicked the badge clipped to his lab coat. "Name's Garth. We never met? I'm the hospital's resident psychiatrist on call for the month."

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered.

"Come on now," Garth said, completely unperturbed by Dean's hostility and taking a seat right next to the bed. "I'm just here to talk a little, is all."

"Fucking Sam sent you up here," Dean said flatly, trying his best to stare the short man down with his most intimidating look, but the dude stared right back at him, the intimidation rolling right off of him like water off of a duck. Shit, Sam had done his homework and sent someone who literally could not even _be_ offended.

"He did," Garth didn't bother denying. "He said you've been having some strange dreams. Not unusual for what you've been through, but it would probably be best to find the cause of them. Stress, PTSD, medications, anything. If you're willing, I'm a big fan of helping people sleep better. I promise not to poke around where you don't want me, or nothing, okay?"

Dean squinted, not entirely sure if he should fuck with the guy to get him to leave or if he seemed worth giving a fair shot to. Half of one. Half of half of one. There was just... _something_ about him. "It's just weird dreams," he said hesitantly, feeling it out. "They'll go away."

Garth crossed his ankle over his knee and rested his chin on his hand like Dean had just said the most interesting damn thing in the world, not even bothering to pull the notebook out of his pocket. "I'm totally sure that they will. Would you be able to give me some details? Just a few? What stuck out the most about them, for instance?"

"I was home in them," Dean said automatically, only slightly pissed at himself for playing along when he knew that there was nothing to psychoanalyze about these particular dreams since they weren't _actually_ dreams.

"Is that strange?"

"No," Dean said. "It's just..." he paused and scrubbed a hand over his face. How could he really explain it? "My home is... well, it's my _home_ , right? It's the safest place in the world."

Garth _hmm'd_ and looked even more interested. Dean didn't think that was possible. "So it's weird that something that's not safe popped up?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Dean admitted faintly. "The things we see all the time and the shit we deal with... having a safe place is important."

"And that was violated. Which is no bueno."

Dean shot him a look but saw nothing besides open sincerity on Garth's face. "It was. In the worst way."

"Did you move around a lot as a kid?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Here was the psychoanalysis. It wasn't that big of a deal. He told Garth so. "It's not that complicated. My dad dumped me and Sam on Bobby and Ellen when he went off the rails looking for the demon who'd kill mom. I mean, he always came back here for the holidays and stuff because this is where all his friends are. But every so often he'd show up and take me and Sam with him on some wild goose chase. Sam got pissed near high school. Went off on Dad. Said he'd had enough living in guest rooms and motels. That he wanted a real home for us and not just some place we stayed while waiting for him to maybe show up again. All our shit was in storage. Bobby 'n Ellen did what they could. But they had a small house and Dad kept saying it'd be over soon."

He took a breath and was surprised it was slightly wobbly in his chest. "Anyway, I got it, y'know? I remembered how it had been, but Sammy didn't. He was a baby back then. So, I dropped out of high school. Got a bunch of jobs and saved to buy the bunker. It was safe, secure, no one would be able to get at Sammy there. It was... stable."

Tilting his head, Garth said, "you hadn't had much of that the rest of your childhood."

"Yeah," Dean admitted grudgingly. "Ellen and Bobby were always there for us, but it was also always temporary."

Garth leaned back in the chair, considering. Usually things like that would raise Dean's hackles, but the guy was pretty damn unassuming, non-judgmental, and maybe the drugs and exhaustion and pain were just getting to Dean enough that it didn't fucking matter anymore. Plus, if he was going to go through with his plan, _someone_ should know something about him that was important.

"So, what made the dream so bad?" Garth asked, reeling him back to the beginning.

Dean shrugged and decided on a half truth. "'Cause the angel I talked to wasn't invited. He was just _there_. Got past the wards and everything."

"Was he threatening?"

"Nah," Dean evaded. "Not really. He just talked to me. I still didn't want him there, though."

Garth nodded several times. "You know, Dean, you're allowed a stress dream or two. And what you've been dealing with lately hasn't exactly been safe, right?"

Dean smiled weakly. "I'm not going nuts?"

"No way," Garth scoffed. "Like I said, I'm not here to put a pin in your mental state. Nothing you've said or done since being here has given anyone cause for concern about that. I'm more here as an outlet for you to talk to. Doctor/patient confidentiality, so it's not like I'll blab. My professional opinion is that you needed to get some stuff of of your chest is all. You feel any better?"

No, he didn't. "Yeah," he said. "I guess. Thanks, man."

Garth beamed at him. "That's awesome! I'm glad to help. Thanks for talking to me so openly. If you need anything else, just give me a holler, okay?"

"Sure," Dean said. 

Garth shook his hand and left cheerfully. Not such a bad guy, Dean thought.

He wasn't nearly so nice to Sam when his brother showed up a few hours later to check in after his shift.

"You ambushed me," Dean said without preamble.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked carelessly, doing a cursory check of Dean's vitals. Likely just for the distraction.

"The shrink. I told you I didn't need one."

"Could have fooled me," Sam returned. "Garth said you talked to him a lot and were really nice. I didn't want to believe him at first, but I'm pretty sure that guy is incapable of lying. If you went for feelings talks, then clearly you had something important to say."

"Did he tell you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Obviously not. He's a professional. I'm just saying."

With a sigh, Dean said, "I told him about the dream, he told me I wasn't crazy, and that was that. I feel _much_ better. _Totally_ normal."

"Yeah, yeah, sarcasm is so mature," Sam griped. "Whatever. As long as it helped, I don't care. I'm sorry. I just think that you're only pretending to hold up so well."

"I got no fucking choice," Dean said moodily. "I'm not leaving here and there's nothing else we can do to find Cas or the others for the time being. We're all in a holding pattern, so I'm focusing on what I can and I'll handle the rest later."

Sam's lips pinched, but he didn't say anything else. He completed his exam and rolled his shoulders. "I'm starving. You want some real food tonight? I'll go get us burgers."

The cheeky grin peeked out even when Dean tried to stop it. "What, I've been such a good patient today that I deserve a reward?"

"I'll buy you a damn salad."

"Kidding. A burger would make my week, man."

Finally Sam smiled. "Be back in thirty."

Dean was surprised that he had any appetite at all, but he polished off the burger, fries, and a slice of pie. Even Sam gave up his horrible healthy diet and indulged. And he didn't try to lure Dean into another feelings talk with the good food. He let Dean turn on the TV to prime time shows and bitched about how bad they were, like always. He filled Dean in on the comings and goings of the team and the hospital, and by the end of it, it was time for lights out. He promised to be back after getting some sleep and Dean waved him off.

A nurse came in to dose him a few minutes later, and finally, _finally_ Dean felt himself slipping to actual sleep. Time to get this show on the road.

xXx

When he entered the dream this time, he was already sitting at the war room's table across from Michael.

"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me again," the archangel said.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you're not surprised."

Michael folded his hands on the table. "I am, though. You seemed very confident before, and I'm sure that you did not come to any conclusions lightly."

Dean held up his hands. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. I just wanna talk for now."

With a grave nod, Michael said, "of course, Dean. We can discuss anything you like."

Despite having prepared a speech in his head before, dream-Dean found awake-Dean's planning to have largely been forgotten. Not like he was terribly good with words from the get-go. He'd never been much of a salesman. Sam had always been the best at convincing people of anything. Dean simply knew when he was right and told people that. Didn't always go over so well, but he'd rarely been in a situation as important as this one now. He'd just have to do what worked for him, which was flying by the seat of his pants.

"I'm not saying yes, but I wanna know what conditions you'd accept if I do."

Michael arched an interested eyebrow. "I'm willing to negotiate, of course. You would be doing me a great favor in being my vessel, and therefore I see no reason why you should not benefit from that as well."

Nodding slowly, Dean said, "fine. Okay, so first. Cas once told me that when his vessel's soul was still around, he didn't have any control. Jimmy was kind of... asleep. Wasn't always aware of what was going on with his body. I don't want that. I can't just turn over the steering wheel and hope that you'll return the vehicle without any scratches or whatever."

"I understand that," Michael said mildly. "If you would prefer, you can keep control of your consciousness until such time as I require it."

"With my permission," Dean stressed.

"I'm amenable to that."

"Next thing. The healing. Is it permanent?"

Michael looked a little surprised at the question. "Of course. Any healing that I provide to you is absolutely permanent. And any injuries that you may sustain while you are my vessel I will also heal."

Dean scoffed. "How much beating up are you expecting me to take while you're riding shotgun?"

Michael's smile was cool. "There are risks in every battle."

"Need to work on your sales pitch," Dean muttered. "Whatever." He raised his voice again. "You can't prevent me from doing my nine-to-five or anything like that. If it comes down to some huge prize fight, and that's still a big fucking _if_ in my mind, that's your cue. Otherwise, I don't want you backseat driving my whole life. This would be a limited time deal for both of us, you got that? I'm not giving you no permanent 'yes,' or something like that."

 

"I understand," Michael answered, and the ease at which he did made Dean a little bit uneasy. "Believe me, Dean. I have no desire to remain on Earth any longer than necessary. My home is in heaven."

He was sure that there were probably a hundred loopholes that angels like Michael would know to exploit that a mere human like Dean couldn't even conceive of. Had to be the case. Whenever history books mentioned the accord between Heaven and Earth, it made vague mentions of angels taking too many liberties when their charges in the past. But without more detail, Dean realized that he was flying pretty blind here and had little knowledge of how to plug the gaps for every eventuality. It was such a fucking bad idea. But somehow he also felt distinctly that the only way left to truly stop the problem was to cut it off at the root. And that meant somehow stopping Michael. If he could. He damn well better. Otherwise this would rapidly become a lifelong bad decision. Of course, the world would also be ending, so it's not like it would make much of a difference once there was no one left alive to care about his fuck up.

"What happens after you're done possessing me?" Dean asked pointedly, his eyes tracking Michael's expressions here as closely as he could. "Most lore says that people who are possessed by something as powerful as an archangel don't make it out of the experience with their minds intact."

For what it was worth, Michael didn't even flinch. "That's true," he said casually. "Very few humans are equipped to deal with that amount of power being contained within them. That's why we archangels have particular vessels who are meant for us. Usually family lines, as with you and your father's family. If I possessed someone outside of your bloodline, they would not be the same after I left."

"You won't leave me a drooling mess," Dean clarified.

"You will be the same as you are now. I promise that."

Dean had saved the most important part for last, as far as he was concerned. The other major reason for even contemplating saying yes to Michael. "Before you do anything, and I mean anything at all, I need to find Cas."

Michael frowned in confusion.

"Castiel," Dean said.

"Oh," Michael answered with no inflection whatsoever to give himself away.

Grounding himself, Dean pressed his palms against the tabletop. There was no use trying to hide anything from the archangel, especially if they were going to share a body. There'd be no way to keep secrets. At the very least, Dean hoped that maybe he'd learn some more of Michael's tells and weaknesses. He had to have a few. Dean knew that even angels did after getting to know Castiel.

He cleared his throat. "I need to find him. Save him. He took all those souls that Zach and Raph left in Purgatory and... I dunno... ate 'em up or something. And he's been gone since then. Radio silent. No matter how much I pray to him, I..." he trailed off. Michael might know his mind, but that didn't mean that Dean had to spill every last detail _willingly_.

Michael's eyes flicked towards Dean's shoulder, and the human resisted rubbing the hand print. "It was a brave and foolish thing that he did," the archangel said quietly. He sounded impressed.

Dean's gaze flew up. "D'you know where he is?"

"No," Michael said slowly, thoughtfully. "There's no angel in my memory that I know of who has done something like that. However, it could be that his vessel is gone and he's simply returned to the ether."

Heart sinking rapidly, Dean went back to studying the wood grains on the table.

"You won't accept that."

Would he? Yes, if he had to. Until then? Hell, no. It was too important. "Not until I know for sure. He said he wouldn't-" he nearly bit his tongue stopping the rest of the sentence. Stopped for a moment. Quieter he continued, "he said he didn't want to leave. I believe him. That he'd do anything he could to stay here on Earth. Somewhere. And I think Gabriel and Balthazar are out there looking for him, too. They're not answering their brain waves either, though."

"My brothers are in Heaven," Michael answered. And that certainly got Dean's attention. "I will admit that I don't know where Castiel has gone yet, but Gabriel and Balthazar have returned to Heaven."

He couldn't accept it. Just like that? It didn't make any sense. "Why?" he demanded.

"I believe they were tracking Raphael."

"Without any fucking backup?" Dean asked incredulously.

"He's not strong enough on his own," Michael countered calmly.

"It doesn't matter!" Dean insisted. "He's got followers! They couldn't have done all that just the two of them without some inside help, could they?"

"Unlikely," Michael agreed. "So, does your stipulation include my brothers Gabriel and Balthazar?"

"Damn right it does! Those guys may be kind of assholes, but they went to bat for us when it was time. I can't ignore that. I want them found and saved and let go wherever they wanna be, and I want those human souls back where they should go."

"There are some things that must happen no matter what," Michael reminded him.

"Fine," Dean snapped. "Then make sure that they happen the right damn way. No more stealing souls, no more deals with the King of Hell, no more bullshit. If you're telling me that some things are fate or whatever, I'm not buying it. But since you are, it goes the way it's supposed to, or not at all."

Michael leaned over the table slightly. "Dean, I agree with you. What Zachariah and Raphael did was unforgivable. It was not what God intended."

"Yeah?" Dean arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "You seemed perfectly ready to capitalize on it. That's why you're here now."

"I'm here to set things straight," Michael said with an edge. "If the signs are all there, I must respond. It's my duty."

"Then do your job right," Dean said succinctly. Baiting _The_ archangel was probably a lesson in foolishness, but Dean had never been the smart type where these sorts of things were concerned. He knew that he was right and he knew that there was a better way. "You'll do it right or not at all with me. That's the deal." In for a penny, in for a pound.

Michael stared at him for a long, uncomfortably blank moment. "Very well," he said finally. "I agree to your terms. Is there anything else?"

"Not right now," Dean said, voice suddenly hoarse.

With a smile, Michael said, "very well. What is your answer, Dean?"

Dean clenched his fists, tried to unknot his jaw. _Cas will never forgive me for doing things this way._ He couldn't think about that right now. Castiel had promised he'd stay. He'd said he'd wanted to stay, and then he'd been impulsive and heroic and perfect and taken all those souls. Somewhere in the darkest corner of his heart, Dean gave in to the fear that he'd never see the angel again. That he'd always be empty in some way. But if Castiel could do something big and self-sacrificing, so could Dean. So _should_ Dean. It was the only way to pull his weight. This is what humans could do. 

He looked the archangel directly in the eye. "My answer is yes."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW** Dean deals with the aftermath of accepting Michael.

The pain that filled Dean the second he said "yes," was more than he'd woken up to in the hospital before. It seared every single nerve ending in his body and it felt as though every molecule was trying to burn itself apart. Like a bomb a second before the blast. Maybe that was _exactly_ what his body was trying to do with the invasion. Michael had failed to warn him that encasing an angel's grace inside a human's body was akin to swallowing a nuclear reactor. It tasted like shit and _really_ wanted to kill him.

He didn't know how it happened, but he could feel Michael slowly gaining control before his body blew apart into nothingness. Bit by bit, the molecules calmed down and compressed back to where they should be. And with that, the pain slowly began to recede. Which was nice, because Dean was positive that if he hadn't already been asleep, that would have made him black the fuck out. 

There was a ringing in his head. Worse than a gunshot going off right next to his ears, which had actually happened to him before. It was screaming. Screeching. Something that Dean _almost_ recognized. It brushed his consciousness with understanding if he could just focus on it harder, but that would have been like asking him to stare directly into the sun. The sound crescendoed until Dean snapped awake for real and slammed his hands over his ears, though it did no good at all.

The monitors were going absolutely haywire, likely summoning everyone at the nurses' station. Dean couldn't breathe and he was certain that he was a second away from suffocating. The light fixtures on the ceiling cracked and shattered.

The screaming, ringing voice finally broke through, _"Stop fighting me, Dean. I will not harm you."_ It dawned on him that the celestial nails on a chalkboard trying to deafen him was Michael's fucking _voice_.

Easier said than done to stop fighting. His body wanted nothing to do with the invasion. It was beginning to fade, but flashes of pure lightning strike pain ricocheted over his body, splintering out from his wounds. He was vaguely aware of being held down; fighting them.

 _"I will not harm you, Dean,"_ Michael repeated.

"I know," he tried to say. "I'm trying." He relaxed against the hands pinning him as best he could. "It's not me," he tried to say, but his tongue felt heavy as lead.

_"I'm sorry, Dean. I did not anticipate that another angel had left a mark on your soul. The discomfort will pass."_

Another...? _Cas_? Fuck. If he'd been more coherent, Dean would have wondered, and worried, that Michael was trying to erase any sign that Castiel had been with him at all. He didn't know what it meant to be "marked" by an angel, so he couldn't panic over it, but if it was just a _Cas was here_ sign or something, well... that would have been pretty cool. He had a second to wonder whether erasing it would make him feel emptier or not, before there was another compelling shot of agony.

His muscles cramped and spasmed, but then it was easier. The flashing and pain faded. The ringing ceased. He eased back to consciousness, blinking rapidly as everything set itself to rights.

Sam was staring at him from inches away, still pinning his shoulders. Meg was behind him backing up slowly.

"You dumbass," she said, hovering near the door with her best example of a worried look.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam gasped, breathing hard from the exertion of trying to keep his brother from hurting himself. "I thought you were having a seizure for a minute! We need to get you to imaging."

Dean shoved his brother's hands off with trembling arms. "No, I'm fine, Sammy. I'm good."

"You damn well aren't!" Sam argued. "Your vitals just spiked. We need to know why in case it happens again."

"It won't," Dean answered hoarsely.

"Now is not the time to be diagnosing yourself. We have to-" he stopped short with an audible choking sound as Dean shoved back the covers, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood, not even with a slight wobble.

Sam jumped back like he'd been stung. Meg backed up a few more steps until she was pressed to the wall next to the door.

"Dean," Sam said suspiciously after he'd recovered from his shock. "What did you do?"

"Three guesses and the first two don't count," Meg spat. She turned her glare to Dean. "I knew you were kinda stupid, but you've taken the cake this time."

"Hey, I'm doing what needs to be done!" Dean shot back heatedly, immediately defensive. "You got another fucking plan? I don't think so! All we've been doing is sitting on our asses just waiting to be saved by _who_? Who the _fuck_ is sticking their necks out for us and making all this bullshit right?"

Meg's expression turned stormy and she took a step forward despite her trepidation being near any angels who weren't Castiel. "A week isn't that big a deal, Dean!" she insisted. "Two weeks, even! We've got some time! There aren't any spikes in activity and maybe Cas and Gabe and-"

"They're _not_!" Dean yelled, stopping Meg in her tracks. "They're gone, okay? Gabriel and Balthazar are stuck in Heaven, and no one knows where the hell Cas is. So, from what I can tell, the longer we just _wait_ , the longer nothing gets done, and the sooner the world just keeps on ending all around us."

"Wait," Sam said sharply. He positioned himself between Meg and Dean to pull his brother's full attention. "How do you know that?"

"What?"

"About Gabriel and Balthazar? You need to tell me what's going on right now because I'm out of the loop and I'm obviously missing something big."

There was no way to lie about it. Meg could tell, and she'd definitely spill the beans if Dean refused. It was likely that she couldn't tell _which_ angel was riding him, but it wouldn't take much to make an educated guess. "I said yes," Dean said, a little ashamed at how weak his voice sounded.

"You said yes," Sam repeated flatly. His shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do I even need to ask who you said yes to?"

"No," Dean answered, swallowing hard. "You already know."

He should certainly give his brother props for speed. Sam had right hooked Dean to the floor before the older Winchester had even blinked. Apparently one of the perks of being possessed by an angel was that the pain didn't last for very long. Sam had managed to probably fracture his jaw, and didn't look sorry about it at all as he stared down at Dean, shaking his fist out angrily as if daring him to stand back up.

Dean rubbed his cheek even as he felt a slithering of heat under his skin, repairing the damage quickly.

And Sam was all rage when he spoke again, voice tight and probably loud enough to bring nurses if he kept it up for long. "I have to agree with Meg on this one," he started, clenching and unclenching his fists, seriously contemplating landing one on his brother again. "This is the stupidest thing ever! This is the whole thing that we were fighting _against_! Now that Michael has you, we're not just a step closer to the Apocalypse, we're a giant fucking _leap_ closer! Possibly not being able to walk again for the rest of your life isn't worth this!" He gestured wide to accommodate everything around them.

That did bring Dean to his feet. "You think I did this just to be selfish?" Knowing it was probably a bad call, Dean still stumbled forward into Sam's face, and the taller man had the decency to flinch slightly and pull back. "It's not about me walking or not ever again, Sammy. It's not about me at all."

"How's that even true?" Sam cut in. "It _is_ about you. You're the vessel. It was always about protecting me and you from this very situation. From either of us saying yes. If we held out, the end of the world couldn't happen."

"That's not true, either," Dean insisted. "Anyone from our bloodline would have been fine. Michael told me that, and he wasn't lying. We're ideal, but other ones would do. And how do you think it would be if a fucking archangel went to someone else? All those estranged people from us with normal lives and only a remedial education in supernatural shit? They'd say yes in a second, and you know it. Most people think angels are servants of God to humanity. All Michael would have to do is sweet-talk one of them a little and they'd bend over backwards to let him take over. You know they would; anyone would!"

"Yeah, okay, that may be true, but then what about Lucifer? Saying you accepting Michael in there - who, by the way, can take over your damn mind any time he likes - instead of someone else, is like saying I should accept Lucifer for the exact same reason! And that might be Michael's endgame, for all we know! He suckers you in with some sweet-sounding deal, but gets his war eventually and the world still burns."

"I'm not gonna let that happen!" Dean screamed, done. Tired. Frustrated. Fucking, _done_. Why wouldn't Sam just _understand_? Listen to the logic? Trust him? Sure, it was a dangerous game, but that didn't mean they couldn't win. That they wouldn't win. But shit, if the only one to have faith in him was himself, he'd take it. He'd do it. And maybe even be nice enough not to say "I told you so" later. He sucked in several deep breaths, clearing the red of out his vision. Sam still looked about ready to strangle him and Meg was wearing the most scornful look Dean had ever seen on anyone. "It's not gonna happen," he said calmer.

Sam reached out but didn't touch his brother. "How?" he asked, modulating his voice softer, and now full of brotherly concern. "Dean, you put Michael's hand on the throttle, and you can't fully control that. He can do whatever he wants whenever he wants, and you agreed to it."

"I didn't agree without any stipulations," Dean said. "Look, I know you're pissed and you think that none of this is going to work out, but it will. I didn't just say yes; I made a deal. I've bought us time, if nothing else."

"What's the plan?" Sam asked, clearly only humoring his brother for now.

Dean told him about saving the other archangels, finding Cas, and getting the human souls back where they needed to go. Sam didn't seem impressed by any of it, but he did seem less pissed.

"Cas is gonna kill you," Sam said after his brother was finished.

"Sucks that that's the least of my worries right now," Dean quipped bitterly.

Finally, Meg seemed to come out of her glaring statue mode to say, "'kay, guess this means I'm outie."

Sam turned to her. "Where are you going?"

"As far away from killer tree toppers as I can get," she answered. "Obviously."

"You don't need to-" Dean started.

"You were fine with Cas," Sam pointed out.

Meg crossed her arms and took another step back. "Look, Clarence was good with me. He might have tried to exorcise me in the beginning, but he proved his shit over and over for us. _Against_ this Michael asshole. I don't trust him, and that means I can't trust _you_." She pointed at Dean. "You're good people, but your copilot isn't. He wants to kill everyone and blow up the world, or whatever. And Lucifer's bad for business regardless. He hates demons even more than he hates humans, and that's a lot. In the end, I gotta look out for number one. So... peace out. I'm not dying because you got all heroic and did something really freaking stupid. Which you did." With that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

"Doesn't sugarcoat things, does she," Dean said with false lightness.

"This is serious, Dean."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Look, I know you've got some big, heroic plan in mind, but you still have to think about what happens if it all goes wrong, because it might. You can't expect success and not plan for failure."

"You sound like a fucking motivational speaker."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Stop being so glib about this. I'm not being unreasonable."

Dean shuffled back and sat on the bed. "Dude, it doesn't matter, y'know? There're two options here. One, I'm right and my plan works and everything's fine. Two, I'm wrong and Michael destroys the world. There's no contingency plan to make it all less bad, do you get that? Michael would find another vessel whether or not I said yes. I'm the best chance we have at keeping him from having a grudge match that levels our entire realm of existence. I can't fail, Sammy. If I do, it's all over. I just have a better chance than most at making sure that doesn't happen."

Sam slumped onto the bed beside his brother. "Too late to turn back now. I'll do whatever I can to help. Just... don't shut me out, okay? Don't do all this shit by yourself. This isn't a one man job, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

Dean could see the struggle his brother went through just to bite back all of things he wanted to say and backburner them. "So," he said at length, voice still slightly tight. "What's first?"

He held up his arms. "Get this shit off of me and get me discharged."

Slowly, approaching him like a skittish wild animal, Sam began to carefully and methodically remove the wires and lines on his brother. At least Dean had been smart enough not to yank them all out himself. "There's no way to get you out of here without it being totally suspicious that you're miraculously healed," he pointed out, putting pressure on the IV spot before applying a band-aid. 

Dean gathered his clothes from the dresser beside the bed and pulled them on. "Just get me a supernatural healing release form. Not like it ain't true. Everyone here already knows we've been hanging out with Cas, so we'll just say it was him."

"After all this, if I get audited, I'll lose my license for sure," Sam muttered, but he still tapped at his tablet to get the paperwork started, and soon enough, Dean was being checked out of the hospital. 

"What are you gonna do?" Sam asked with trepidation.

Dean swung his leather jacket over his shoulders. "I'm going back to Purgatory to save Cas and those souls."

Sam caught his arm and Dean met his brother's worried expression. "Be careful."

Dean shrugged him off. "Always am, Sammy. See ya back at home."

xXx

Castiel could hear the souls. Every single one of them. The voices were beautiful but terrified. He stumbled to his feet and pressed his palm to his chest. "I'll save you," he promised. "I'm going to save all of you. You're going to Heaven."

There was no way for them to go back to Purgatory, anyway. He'd made sure of that. The doors were sealed. Only those beings destined for Purgatory after death would end up there. Zachariah had failed and now he was dead. Castiel tried not to feel too good about that. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done. He still had a score to settle with Raphael, after all. The souls first, though.

He glanced around and determined that he had ended up in the deep woods. Perfect. No other humans around and nothing to disturb them. This was the optimal place to release the souls to ensure that they ended up where they should. 

He turned his face up to the sun and drew in a deep breath. Releasing the souls was a lot easier than sucking them in, though drawing the sigil on his chest and activating it with his grace was fairly painful. It was a deep-rooted burn seeping out of his body through his skin. He closed his eyes tightly and spread his arms wide. He could feel each and every soul leaving him in a slow ooze. And once his vessel began to empty, it got easier, the souls extracting themselves faster and faster. Eventually he opened his eyes to watch their spiraling ascent. Once they were clear he focused all of his power, all of his grace, to return them to Heaven. It was difficult to describe, but he knew when the barriers gave. It was almost like pressing on a tight film of plastic until it thinned and ripped. He watched the blue streaks of light carry ever upwards as quickly as they could, craving the warmth of eternity.

It was growing dark when he finished and he smiled with relief. He could save them all. He _had_ saved them all. With some rest he'd be able to return to Heaven himself to rescue Balthazar and Gabriel. He hoped that they could wait that long.

But he was distracted a moment later when he heard the echo of a prayer from Sam Winchester. 

_Cas, if you're out there, we've got a big problem. It's Dean. Please get back here quick, if you can._

The desperation in the prayer prompted Castiel into immediate action. Dean. He'd likely been harmed terrible having been that close to the blast from before. Castiel wasn't banned from the bunker, and had felt the prayer originate from there, briefly wondering why Sam hadn't taken his brother to the hospital, but he pushed that question aside, flying there in the blink of an eye, appearing directly in Dean's bedroom where he felt the human's soul residing. 

The paramedic was lounging on his bed, reading a book on angel lore and... he appeared completely normal. 

It wasn't at all what he'd been expecting from the way that Sam had resonated in his head. "Dean?" he asked cautiously.

Dean put the book aside and raised his green gaze to Castiel.

In that split second, he _knew_. "Michael."

"Hello, brother," Michael said. "How did you get past the wards? I was impressed at how strong they were."

A horrible feeling of dread snaked through his vessel's veins. "I'm always welcome here. How, Michael? How are you here?" He wasn't aware that he'd clenched his fists tightly until Michael - no _Dean's_ \- gaze flicked down to take in his hostile posture.

"Dean Winchester accepted me."

He couldn't stop himself from jolting forward. "Impossible," he growled. "That's not possible! He would never. Let me speak to him. Immediately."

Michael very slowly slid to the edge of the bed and stood. He approached Castiel, stopping when he was merely a foot or two away. Castiel forced himself to hold his ground. Michael might have been the most powerful angel ever created, but Castiel refused to be bested when Dean's life and soul were at stake. He wouldn't. 

Michael's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, I see now. It was _you_. You left the mark on Dean's soul. That was irresponsible of you. It caused Dean quite a bit of pain as he adjusted to me."

White hot fury such as he'd never known flooded Castiel and there was no stopping it. His control had well and truly snapped. He grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and thrust them both backwards the several steps until Dean's back hit the wall, rattling the picture frames. Michael looked stunned. Castiel's voice resonated like shattering glass when he said, "let me speak to Dean Winchester."

A slow, predatory smile bloomed on Dean's face. "He's fighting me, Castiel. I had him in a deep dream for the moment. He's stronger than I ever imagined. _Fascinating_. He wants you."

Castiel shoved him again, lifting him off his feet and driving Dean's body harder into the wall. Michael grunted a humorless laugh. He was baiting Castiel, and he _knew_ it, but he couldn't stop himself. Dean. He wanted Dean. Needed Dean. Michael was not _welcome_ in the temple of Dean Winchester's body.

Michael gripped Castiel's forearms tightly with all the strength of a contained archangel. "He said yes, Castiel. Remember that."

And then there was a short, gasping breath, and _Dean's_ voice saying, "ow, dammit, Cas. Cas! Put me down!"

As if conditioned to respond to his demands, Castiel released his hold immediately. But he didn't retreat. He kept his forearm locked across Dean's chest, anchoring him. Dean grimaced, but didn't move, didn't look away. "Why?" Castiel demanded. He could feel the rock hard tension of Dean's body, every muscle taut and ready to fight.

"You were gone," Dean answered, voice incongruously soft compared to his body radiating defiance.

An entirely new sensation swept through him. What was it? It was awful. Cloying, hopeless, desperate. "I was always going to return to you."

Dean released his grip on the angel's forearm and touched his face. "I didn't know that. I didn't know where you were. You said you were sorry, and then you were gone. Please, don't look so sad, okay? I've got a plan, I swear."

 _Grief_. That was it. He released his hold and took a staggering step back. Dean followed him, grasping his hands. He wanted to fight and scream and beat Michael out of Dean's body where he had no right to defile, but the grief. It was heavier than anything. It choked him until he didn't have the strength to become truly angry. Not yet. Not when Dean was still in control of his mind. He simply saw the ending so clearly. "We fought so hard," he said miserably.

"We still are," Dean insisted. "Cas, I'm not giving in. I said yes to Michael, but I have no intention of letting him end the world. I was gonna come and get you, and then..."

He wanted to cry, but wasn't sure how that process worked with humans. "I'm here."

Dean kissed him then like he had nothing else to lose. He didn't, not really.

It hurt exquisitely. _We tried so hard_. Castiel pushed Dean onto the mattress gently, tugging at his clothes. Dean let him undress them both fully without complaint. _Why couldn't I save him?_ He pressed unpracticed kisses all over Dean's face and body. He knew Michael was in there sleeping now. But he'd know. He had access to every corner of Dean's mind. The very thought set Castiel's blood on fire. He would never have presumed to invade so much if it had been him. But Michael's mark would be left there. It might wipe away Castiel's. He wasn't even sure what exactly he'd left behind, only that it had tried to protect Dean from being overtaken. That was enough.

Dean pulled up with a gasp, climbing to his elbows and pushing Castiel back slightly. "Is Mike gonna be getting a show?" he asked, voice shaking.

"No," Castiel assured him, resolutely kissing further down Dean's chest to the curve of his stomach and nipping at the flesh there. "But he will know what you know."

Dean's dick twitched against him and Castiel smiled sadly. "Let him," Dean said forcefully. "I'm not giving in and I'm not giving you up. He can know that."

Ah, that _strength_. How could he have forgotten it? The hopelessness icing over his heart thawed just a hair. Dean's soul was saturated in his strength. It was his defining characteristic. It was sometimes stubborn, sometimes irrational, sometimes glorious. Castiel loved it. Loved him. Probably since the beginning of everything. He took Dean's cock in his hand, stroking tight and long, forcing a moan out of the both of them. "I will fight this with you," he promised in penitence. "I did all of this for you, Dean. I will stand with you. I won't let you do this alone."

Fingers tangled into his hair, holding him tightly. "Cas." It was a breathy plea.

"You can't leave me," Castiel murmured against Dean's skin, lower, lower until his lips brushed over the purpling head of Dean's dick. It was overwhelming. He couldn't stop the welling of human emotions overtaking every inch of him. Learned and fed from Dean himself. He didn't want to stop them. They were so much more than anything he'd ever experienced before his contact with humans. His brothers and sisters often said that human emotions lead to recklessness. They did, but it wasn't a weakness. "I love you, Dean."

Dean keened high in the back of his throat. His whole body arched as Castiel swallowed him down to the base, sucking almost painfully to draw his ecstasy further. He _needed_ it. He had to have it. _Please, Dean._

Dean's heels dug into his shoulder blades, drew them as close as they could possibly get. He cried out a litany of praise and desperation, skin burning hot. Castiel carved his love into Dean with his fingers on sweaty, glistening skin, his tongue swiping long strokes on the underside of the human's cock while his mouth and throat clenched, drawing tighter.

Then he felt it as Dean quaked under him and fell back against the pillows. He grabbed handfuls of the sheets in his fists. Castiel's grace tugged at him, begging. Begging for Dean. He sighed through his nose, letting it snake out of him. It left trails of delicate blue afterglow as his fingers traced their supplication onto Dean's skin.

Dean swore sharply suddenly and came hard down Castiel's throat. He trembled so violently that it felt like he might shiver apart. Castiel soothed him through it, lessening the pressure to gentle strokes. He felt the golden, resonating answer of Dean's soul. It was a balm. And it was still him. Michael couldn't take him. Michael couldn't touch him.

Castiel jacked himself roughly. Dean surrounded him on all sides. The scent of his musk, sound of his wrecked voice, the salt of his release on the back of his tongue, his very soul curling and seeking joining. Oh, how Castiel longed to answer it properly. But the human didn't know what it would mean. Not yet. But he could hold the intention, so he did. Dean gasped lightly and Castiel growled as he came a moment later, his lips on Dean's inner thigh.

Several minutes later, Dean had recovered enough to grab Castiel up and kiss him deeply. They settled in each other's arms gradually. Castiel ended up with his head nestled on Dean's shoulder. Dean painted patterns over the angel's back with the tips of his fingers. "What was that?" he asked eventually.

"Sex," Castiel answered, though he knew the actual question.

Dean pinched him on the meat of his shoulder. "I meant that... thing. It felt like... you. Like your grace. Or something. I dunno."

"It was," Castiel confirmed. "Your soul and my grace. They connected, in a way."

"How the hell?" Dean asked absently, still muddled in an endorphin bath.

Castiel shifted, but Dean didn't let him get away. Their eyes met and the angel knew there was no way of escaping this. He relented without further prodding. "It's how angels mate, in essence. Their grace joins and intertwines. That's oversimplifying it, but in essence, that's what would happen between you and me. My grace and your soul. Humans can't fully mate with angels, but they can be connected." His voice trailed away as he saw emotions that he couldn't define flicker through Dean's beautiful green eyes. "We didn't," he hastened to assure him. 

Dean shook his head and Castiel felt his heart ache with impending rejection. But then the human said, "I wouldn't really have minded." His face flushed and he dove in for another kiss.

It was a conversation for another day. But still, the words hung in the air and Castiel kept them close. It gave him something else to fight for. He held Dean closer and drifted off into his not-quite-sleeping, healing fog in an effort to recover enough for the road ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize again that my posting schedule is super shitty right now. I just got laid off from my job and am trying everything I can to be able to support myself and my daughter with barely a dime in the bank. It's really stressing me out, so please forgive me for possible long stretches between updates for a while. I've got a lot of life-altering issues on my plate. However, this fic is almost to the end, so it at least it won't drag on for a year, or anything. I'm really sorry for all the past and any future delays.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel returns and Michael keeps his promises to Dean.

Dean didn't sleep for very long. Not even his normal four hours. However, he woke refreshed and warm, Castiel tucked against his side. Must have been an angel thing. When Castiel was at full capacity, he'd mentioned that he never slept at all. Great. More time to do... whatever.

Michael was still silent in his head, but Dean was sure that the archangel would get antsy if he dragged his feet too much on any part of the deal. And he was also sure that with Castiel being back, Michael would take that as a win for him and demand something in return, regardless of the fact that he hadn't had a thing to do with saving those souls or Castiel. Still. The sooner the better to get this shit taken care of. He wasn't entirely positive, but Dean had the sneaking suspicion that the longer Michael stayed in his body, the more he'd be able to get his hooks in and make it impossible for Dean to get him out.

Carefully, he extracted himself from Castiel's sleeping arms and dressed himself in jeans and a plain t-shirt, foregoing his shoes for now.

In the war room, it looked like Sam had never gone to sleep, though he had changed into his casual clothes. A pot of coffee in the kitchen was already half gone. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm good," Dean answered. "In full control, if that's what you're asking."

"It was," Sam said, not even bothering to play coy.

"I'm fine. Cas is back."

That got Sam's full attention. "Where is he?! Is he okay? I prayed to him on the off chance he was still around."

"Yeah," Dean shrugged, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "He's sleeping to recover his grace, or whatever, but he's fine. Said he got all those Purgatory souls to Heaven."

"That's great!" Sam enthused. "One step closer to fixing this mess, right? I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah," Dean repeated, evasive.

Sam, of course, picked up on it immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not over," Dean answered, pulling out a chair and plopping down. "We've still gotta get Gabe and Balth, and then somehow convince Mike he doesn't want a grudge match."

Sam puffed a breath, and it swished his long bangs out of his face. "Easier said than done."

"At least you're not telling me it's impossible," Dean noted with a wink.

"Wouldn't wanna crush your ego," Sam deadpanned. "Look, what's the benefit here? We've got Cas back. He can surely get into Heaven and rescue the other angels. The souls are taken care of. We don't - _you_ don't need Michael for any of this."

"Yes, we do," Dean insisted with an added eye roll. "I said it before; Michael will just get himself another vessel. Let's just keep our eyes on the prize, okay?"

Sam shook his head. Groaned slightly. Looked like he was about to grind his teeth down to nothing before he said, "fine. Fine, Dean. I don't like this at all, to be crystal clear. And the second things get squirrely, I'll do everything in my power to pull the plug. You got it?"

"I got it," Dean answered with something like relief. He was perfectly glad to put the argument away for now. "I'm counting on you to have my back. You and Cas."

Relenting, Sam asked, "what's the plan today?"

"Food," Dean answered.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"We don't have any. Haven't been shopping in a million years."

"Angels don't need to eat."

"Humans do, and I still like food. I'm going shopping. Be back in an hour."

If Sam had anything else to say about his brother riding with an archangel and doing something as mundane as getting groceries, he said nothing about it and left Dean to do his thing. Of course, it also gave him the chance to speak with Castiel without the threat of a third party listening in. The second that Castiel emerged from the dorms to the main area, Sam was on him.

"You can't be okay with this," he said pointedly.

For what it was worth, Castiel didn't look surprised by the question in the least, nor did he try to dodge it. "I'm not, but you and I both know how stubborn Dean is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said. "But there's gotta be something we can do about it."

"There is," Castiel said seriously. "We finish this as soon as possible. We need Gabriel and Balthazar back. I'm almost positive that they know how to assure Lucifer is never released from his cage."

That perked Sam right up. "Good! Excellent! Where are they? Are they really in Heaven?"

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "They're in Heaven's prison, currently. It's nearly impossible to break them out, but I believe that I can."

"At what cost?" Sam demanded. "I'm not okay with anyone else making more Hail Mary moves when there's another option."

Castiel sat down at the war table and folded his hands on top of it. "There will always be sacrifices in times such as these."

"You've done that more than once already," Sam said. "No one else needs to run off by themselves anymore. I get that we've made it this far. But, doesn't it feel like we just got lucky? I don't think there's a whole lot of that left. Certainly not something that we should rely on. It's stupid. We stick together or we don't win. I might not be sure about a whole lot going on right now, but I'm _positive_ about that. Cas, are you with me on that?"

The angel had been staring at him hard the entire time. At the end of Sam's somewhat impassioned speech, a tiny smile had peeked out on his face. "Yes. I'm with you."

Sam beamed. "Thanks. Now, down to business. We need a plan to break the guys out of Heaven's jail. Which, first of all, wow. Why do you even have a jail up there? I thought all your insurgents were dropped into Hell or something."

For a moment, he wondered if he'd overstepped and insulted the angel, however Castiel simply shrugged. "Most angels don't commit crimes quite as egregious as Lucifer did."

"Point taken," Sam said. "So, do you have any intel about getting someone out of there?"

"It's heavily guarded by very power angels," Castiel admitted. "However, I believe that we shouldn't underestimate the element of surprise. No one's ever tried to break in or out before. They won't expect it."

"Yeah, but they're still dangerous. And trained."

"Thus the need for surprise. If we can gain a small advantage, it may be the thing we need to succeed in it."

"Understood," Sam answered. "So, I'm assuming that humans can't just waltz into Heaven."

"No, not if you're still alive."

Sam scooted back. "That'll be an issue."

"I'm not going to kill you," Castiel assured him. "Dean and I should be sufficient and fulfill the requirements to not go off alone."

"Keep him safe," Sam demanded.

"I will. I always will," Castiel promised.

xXx

Later that afternoon, while Dean ate his lunch on the sofa in front of the large TV in the main room, Castiel explained his plan to break Balthazar and Gabriel out of Heaven's prison. Dean was all for it. Another step forward. A way to go. And he could feel that Michael was on board for the whole thing.

"It will take time for me to get us there," Castiel said finally. "I have to find the gate. And then we can leave. Until then, what do you plan to do?"

Dean shrugged. "Keep on. Michael said I could have full control until it was something he had to take over. Until then, I'll keep hunting. Keep helping."

"Stay vigilant," Castiel advised.

"I will," Dean promised. "I hope Michael sees it. Sees all the good we do."

Castiel reached out and placed his hand on Dean's arm. "I do admire your optimism, Dean, but Michael is..." He paused and Dean could see him struggling to find a word. Eventually he said, "old."

Dean chuckled. "Uh, yeah, I know. You mean set in his ways?"

The angel nodded. "You must understand something about angels, and archangels in particular. They never question their mission. Going against the word of our Father is unheard of. Angels were made to follow orders, and little else." The bitterness in his voice surprised even him.

Dean scooted a little bit closer. "But _you_ did," he said gently. "You guys might be programmed to do a certain thing in a certain way, but it's not like you're wired forever that way, right? You tossed yourself out of Heaven and got hurt just to warn us about what was happening. You'd never even been to Earth and had no idea what you'd find or who you'd encounter. And if you can change by yourself like that, then what's to say Michael can't either?"

Forehead pinched in worry, Castiel turned on the sofa to more fully face the human. "Michael is the first angel, Dean. In many respects, he's _the_ angel. You cannot underestimate him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You and Sam keep saying that to me. What do I need to do to prove that I'm _not_? I know the score here. It ain't like I'm flying blind."

"What will you do if you can't fight him? If he goes back on his word and controls you fully?" When Dean flinched, Castiel realized that he'd gripped the man's arm too tightly and released his hold with a sigh of apology. Dean rubbed the spot briefly.

Green eyes met blue squarely and Dean said, "if Michael takes me, you take me out."

"No!" Castiel startled. "You can't ask me to kill you!"

This time, Dean's grip was bruising on Castiel's arms. "If I thought anyone else could do it, I'd be asking them, man. It's more than I should ask of anyone, but you've always had my back. Every time, ever since you got here. If the worst happens, you _have_ to stop it. You know what'll happen if you don't."

"I do," Castiel agreed gravely. "However, I'll find another way. Michael can't have your beautiful soul, Dean. I won't let him. I'll keep you whole without killing you. I promise."

"I hate it when you say stuff like that," Dean muttered.

Castiel tilted his head in curiosity. "Why?"

Dean reached over and bumped the angel's shoulder lightly with his fist. "Because every time you do, you try to die for me. I hate that shit. We aren't Romeo and Juliet, y'know?"

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel said.

Dean chuckled. "You don't know anything about human culture, do you?"

"Only what I've seen on Netflix," Castiel admitted sheepishly. "Humans have a unique way of telling stories. Your imaginations are endless. I admire that."

"Guess so," Dean mused. 

Castiel leaned closer and Dean swallowed hard, unable to look away. "You must understand," he said softly, but seriously. "I believe this plane of existence to be worth saving, no matter the cost. The things that my father has created here are limitless and beautiful. Human beings are capable of such evil as I can hardly imagine. But they are also capable of some of the greatest good I have ever witnessed. And to have that taken away... your free will revoked... it's not right."

Dean couldn't help touching. He splayed his fingers along the rough jut of Castiel's cheek and trailed them down the defined line of his neck. "Then why?" he murmured. "Why did God order you angels to nuke us out of existence?"

Castiel shook his head, and they were sitting so closely together that Dean could feel the brush of his dark hair against his forehead. His clear blue eyes were sorrowful when they turned up to meet Dean's. "I don't believe he did."

Taken aback, Dean said, "you don't think this whole Apocalypse thing is what God ordered? I mean, it's in the Bible and everything."

"I don't think he ordered it," Castiel reasoned. "I think he planned it as a fail safe."

Dean snorted. "For what? His toys running away from him? Why would it matter, anyway? He ain't even around to be pissed at all the war and hate and assholery we've been doing."

"True," Castiel agreed, sweeping his hands down Dean's arms and gripping his elbows lightly. "Not all of God's creations have gone as planned. Not all of them have developed as Earth has. He's scrapped countless creations and started over as many times."

Well, _that_ was certainly interesting news. "So, are we, like, the most advanced civilization He's made?"

"No," Castiel smiled.

Seriously? Dean's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline. "Wow. Uh. That's a whole big can of worms I don't think I'm ready to open right now. Anyway, I guess what you're trying to tell me is that the whole Apocalypse is God's big red button in case he wanted to start from scratch again."

"That's what I believe, yes."

"Okay, that's great and all," Dean said, rolling the tension out of his shoulders, "but why didn't he just say that to you angels in the beginning? Why's everyone under the impression that it's inevitable?"

"Because it usually is, historically speaking," Castiel said reasonably. "It doesn't explain why Zachariah and Raphael decided that now was the time, or what their true purpose is, though it does explain why there was never an actual timeline for it."

With a slight grimace of existential discomfort, Dean said, "I mean, I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, so I can't argue with your assessment, but it's convincing enough."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel stood and straightened his tie. "We've no more time to lose. I'll find the door to Heaven and then we'll be on our way."

The shift from Dean to Michael was instantaneous, and Castiel could sense it the moment it happened. He narrowed his eyes, though he resisted saying anything straight away. Their last encounter had been less than friendly. It was difficult to not be openly hostile to the archangel, though. In his head, Castiel reminded himself that he could trust Dean.

"I know where the entrance is," Michael said with Dean's voice. It grated on every one of Castiel's nerves.

"Where?"

"Follow me." Without waiting for a response, Michael opened his wings and launched himself from the bunker. Castiel followed a moment later, trying not to dwell on how difficult it was to follow an actual archangel flying at top speed. 

In the blink of an eye, the set down in a... children's park? Castiel looked around with curiosity and his eyes alighted on Michael, who was standing next to a small sandbox where, what appeared to be, a mother and child were standing. More angels. Castiel approached them on guard.

The child spoke first. "You are permitted to enter Heaven, but you are not to cause any trouble. If most of us had our way, you would already be imprisoned for the rules you've broken, Castiel."

Castiel frowned. "Michael, is this a trap?"

"No," the archangel answered. "I made a deal with Dean, and I will carry out my end. He made me promise that no harm would come to you. If you are to face judgment in Heaven, it will not be today."

The other two angels didn't look pleased about it, but backed up and began casting the spell to open the gate. It flashed and opened like a stationary tornado. Without pausing, Michael stepped into the whirlwind, leaving Castiel no choice but to follow.

xXx

Being back in Heaven felt extremely strange to Castiel. It felt so... _sterile_. White. Clean. Orderly. He wasn't sure that he liked it. He only had a moment to look around before Michael was striding down the hallway quickly. There were in a hall that Castiel didn't recognize. He jogged to catch up with the archangel. "Where are we?" he demanded, keeping his voice down. He was shocked that there were no guards or sentries. There was no one at all.

"Near the prison," Michael answered, clipped. "This way."

He turned towards a set of alabaster steps leading down. They seemed to go on forever, and Michael never slowed his pace. "Why are we walking so fast?"

"Because I don't feel like starting an angelic war. That's not why we're here."

The stairs end in a long hallway, barred doors on both sides. Most of the cells were empty and the whole room was eerily silent. "Are we sneaking in?" Castiel whispered. He didn't know why he kept his voice down, but it felt appropriate. This wasn't the way to the prison that Castiel remembered. Michael, naturally would have known another way where they wouldn't be seen. It filled him with relief to know that he wouldn't be forced to fight through scores of his brothers and sisters in order to get his friends out of jail.

"No," Michael answered. Without breaking stride, he approached two of the middle cells, hand held out, palm forward, and wordlessly blasted the doors off of their hinges. Rock and dust filled the room.

Gabriel and Balthazar emerged from the cells, wide-eyed. "That you, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked.

"Let's go," Michael said. "They'll find us soon."

"Cassie?" Balthazar said, mystified. "What the hell?"

"We'll explain later," Castiel answered, feeling just as lost as the other two archangels. "Please, we have to go before we're caught."

"Jail break," Gabriel breathed excitedly. "I'm _so_ down with this."

They ran up the stairs and back towards the gate as quickly as they could, Castiel leading the way. He could see the glow from the arched alcove at the end of the stark hallway. They were only a handful of yards away when Raphael stepped calmly in front of it, blocking them.

"Foolish move showing up here, Castiel," he said blandly as the fugitive skidded to a halt. "I must admit that I didn't foresee you coming back here to save your friends. That was... bold."

Castiel felt the cold press of his angel blade against his wrist. "Please don't start this here," Castiel answered. "I'm not here to fight you."

"I disagree," Raphael answered. "All you've done from the very beginning is attempt to thwart my plans. You killed Zachariah. Hid the Winchesters from me."

"They were not for you to control," Michael broke in. He moved Castiel out of the way and took several steps towards Raphael. "You had no right to begin any of this, brother."

Raphael sneered. "Dean Winchester. How did you get here? I assume you're not quite dead yet. Your soul is tainted."

Castiel surged forward. "How dare you-"

Michael stopped him with firm hand to his chest. "Enough. Watch yourself, Raphael. Step away from the gate."

It was evident the moment that Raphael realized who was inhabiting Dean Winchester's body. A slow, humorless grin spread across his face slowly. "Michael. How? How did you get that stubborn human ass to agree to this? It's perfect, brother! Our Father's plan is nearly complete! If I'd known... Michael, I am in your service as you bring down that writhing, filthy mess of humanity. Please, I will aid you in any way."

Michael nodded once. "Thank you, brother. Your loyalty is noted."

He snapped his fingers and Raphael exploded in a concussive whoosh, showering them all in a fine mist of gore.

"Holy _shit_ ," Gabriel said.

Michael stepped into the portal.

By the time the other three angels made it back to Earth, the archangel was gone. Castiel swung around in every direction to find him, but knew that the gesture was useless. No. _No_! Panic welled in his chest. He'd promised both Sam and Dean that he would help make this right, but there was nothing he could do if he couldn't keep track of Michael. And though he trusted Dean implicitly, in his heart of hearts, he knew that Dean wouldn't be strong enough to fight the angel for long. He was just too strong in the face of such power. No one could. "Dammit!" he cursed softly.

He was brought back to the present when Balthazar put a hand to his arm. "What's going on?" he demanded. "How did Michael end up riding Dean Winchester, completely contrary to our plan?"

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "Not that we're ungrateful for the jailbreak and all, but I have so many questions."

"I know," Castiel answered, still looking around, but there was no trace of Michael. "We should return to the bunker. I have to tell Sam what has happened, and we need to decide what to do next. I'll fill you in on all the details there."

"Good enough for me," Gabriel said.

"See you there," Balthazar said.

Castiel turned in one final circle. Dread filled him. He turned his face upwards, gritting his teeth. He could sense the threads of their tenuous control of the situation slipping from his fingers. _Oh, Dean,_ he prayed. _I promise to save you no matter the cost. Even if it's not what you want. I won't allow it to end like this. Please just hold on for a while longer._ He opened his eyes and a moment later disappeared from the park and back to the bunker to face the proverbial music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter is unedited. Things are just out of hand for me right now. On a brighter note, there's only one, maybe two, chapters left to wrap this up!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will confronts Michael in the final showdown.

"Where the hell is he, Cas? Where the hell is my brother?"

"I don't know," Castiel answered. Again. "I'm looking everywhere. I've come back to ask if you, or anyone, has heard anything else."

Sam didn't pause in his pacing back and forth across the hall. "Don't you think I would have called, or texted, or prayed, or something? We need to find him now. This wasn't part of the deal."

"I realize that, Sam."

He swung around and rounded on the angel. "Then I'll ask you something else. Why the hell are you here?"

"I believe I stated already that I am here for an exchange of information."

Sam turned back to the table and slapped his open palm onto the tome he'd been reading. The entire table was covered in lore books. Anything at all that had even a sentence or two on angels. "I got nothing," he said, frustrated. "I don't know where Michael could have gone, and there's nothing in the lore that hints at anything about what he could be doing, except for what's in the Bible. You've got to know _something_."

Castiel sat across the table and slid one of the books towards himself. "Very little," he admitted. "Even angels don't know everything. God had many secrets, it appears." He resignedly flipped a few pages. "But I think it is safe to assume that Michael is attempting to find a way to release Lucifer and end the battle right now. It's what he wanted."

"What good will that do?" Sam asked. "The whole point of the apocalypse is to hit the reset button, right? If Michael takes the steps out of order, then there's no point. Breaking the seals and releasing the horsemen to kill off most of humanity is the endgame, isn't it? What good will it do him to jump ahead of the plan?"

"You can rest assured that a battle between those two would easily end half the lives on the planet," Castiel said grimly. "Michael isn't concerned with the entire plan. Just his part in it. He feels that this is his right to battle Lucifer. And he's probably accelerating his plans because he knows that we have been successful in thwarting the rest."

"That makes him incredibly dangerous."

"On the money," Gabriel said. Castiel and Sam turned their heads to see the other two angels looking a little windblown, but otherwise uninjured. Sam marveled a little bit that he was so used to angels just popping up in the bunker that it barely fazed him.

"Anything?" Castiel asked immediately.

"Not much," Gabriel admitted.

Balthazar came to the table and sat. "Not nothing, though. We have reason to believe that Michael knows how to open the cage to release Lucifer."

"Didn't we already know that?" Sam asked moodily.

"Of course, but I think he's got the means now. We need to find out where, because Michael isn't famous for his patience."

Castiel glanced back at the book he'd been reading. "How do we know he hasn't already found the place?"

"Because we're not all dead," Gabriel answered with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Sam nodded. "Point taken. Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Didn't think we had one," Gabriel noted.

"We don't," Castiel confirmed.

"For fuck's sake," Sam spat. He raked his hands through his hair with a growl of frustration. "You're all-powerful beings! How are you such chickenshits?"

"Hey!" Gabriel protested. "You wanna try taking on the first angel without an army? Be my guest! All-powerful or not, it ain't easy, and Mike could eat us all for breakfast. I appreciate you humans overestimating our abilities and all; makes me feel like a stud, but you've read the freaking Bible! Screwing with Michael is ill-advised, at best."

"Understatement," Balthazar said dryly. "Sam, we understand your haste, but I'm assuming you would like to survive getting your brother back, yes?"

With his most sour expression, Sam said, "yes. Obviously."

"Good. Then we're not running out there with our pants around our ankles. So, let's brainstorm, shall we?" He took a seat at the table and shoved several of the books away. Gabriel sat next to him and kicked his feet up on to the table. Sam took out his phone and tapped out a quick text.

"Hot date?" Gabriel asked with a suspicious edge to his voice that made Sam roll his eyes.

"No. I'm texting Charlie. If anything weird is going on, she'll know about it, and could maybe narrow down our search area. Doesn't do us much good to have the whole Earth as a possibility for opening a gate to hell."

Castiel piped up, "it would be twenty-nine percent of the Earth."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The gate is almost certainly on land," the angel clarified. "Twenty-nine percent of the Earth is a possibility."

Gabriel snorted a laugh. "Thanks, Mr. Literal. That's a big help."

Sam's phone rang just as Castiel opened his mouth to probably start a useless argument about semantics. "Charlie! Need your help. I've got the angels here with me." He slid the cell phone onto the table and put it on speaker.

"No prob," she answered. "I'm at my desk now. Figure I'm gonna have to adjust my search parameters, huh? I'm assuming increased demonic activity or supernatural occurrences won't be a useful factor."

Balthazar leaned forward. "Demons, no, but occurrences, yes. Some of them, at any rate. Look for unexplained weather patterns, animals acting strangely, crop anomalies. Things like that."

There was a pause on the other end of the line followed by the sound of rapid tapping on a keyboard. "So... like... what? Snow in July? Plagues of locusts? Cattle mutilations?"

"Less Hollywood conspiracy theory," Gabriel said. "It's possible there'll be some super weird stuff, but for now focus on things that might easily be explained away. An unexpected heat wave, or some species of animal abandoning its habitat suddenly en masse. More subtle things."

Castiel nodded. "Thunderstorms out of nowhere, perhaps. God enjoys lightening."

"Huh," Sam said thoughtfully to the strange piece of trivia.

"Gimme a second," Charlie said. More typing and then her voice filtered back. "Okay, question while we're waiting for this to compile. Why can't Lucifer's cage be opened from anywhere on Earth? I mean, Cas, you mentioned that time passes differently on the non-earthly planes, which suggests to me that the cage is in some other dimension or something. Which should mean that it doesn't really matter where it's opened from, right?"

"Yes, and no, smarty-pants," Gabriel answered. "Theoretically, yes, you can get to any other plane from anywhere else, but there are rules. God didn't want any being going back and forth willy-nilly. That's why there're doors. Spells. Safeguards. A gate to Hell _can_ be opened from anywhere, but some places are more suitable."

"Like Stull Cemetery," Charlie said.

Gabriel answered, "yeah, like... wait, what?"

"Stull Cemetery," she repeated. "That's where the gateway to Hell is."

Sam's chair nearly toppled as he jumped up. "Are you sure?"

"Five hundred lightning strikes on a clear day, frogs clogging the access road, some other minor stuff. You said weird; this is weird. Stull Cemetery is ground zero, I'm sure of it."

"You're amazing, Charlie," Sam breathed, his heart suddenly pounding with the adrenaline rush.

"And don't you forget it. Be careful, Sam, okay? Take care of him, Cas."

"I will," Castiel answered. 

Sam disconnected the call and faced down the three angels. "Okay, we've got the where now. Tell me all about the how."

xXx

Dean had no idea where Michael had ridden his body to. Vaguely, he thought he could feel the wind and cold on his skin, but he'd been pushed so far into his own subconscious that all he could really be sure of was that he was sitting in a shaky foldout chair on a dock, fishing line in the water of a pristine lake. It was tempting to get sucked into the calm of the place. He knew that Michael was trying to convince him to do just that. Sink into complacency so that he wouldn't fight the takeover.

"This wasn't part of our deal," Dean said.

Michael appeared next to him, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looking just like a young John Winchester again. "I haven't gone against it. We agreed that I would take over when necessary."

"It ain't time yet," Dean argued, though he couldn't bring any force to his words. It was getting dangerous. In the back of his mind, he knew that. The longer he stayed gone, the more his desire to fight for supremacy waned. Exactly as Michael had planned. He had to do something. _Had_ to. The only problem was that he had no idea _what_. It was probably a miracle he'd stayed aware for this long already against the first angel. Didn't help that he had no idea how much time was passing in the real world.

"How do you know?" Michael said.

"Because I'm still fighting you," Dean answered, eyes resolutely on the slight undulations of the water.

"The people around you must underestimate you all the time." It sounded like sincere praise.

"Every now and then." They were silent for several heartbeats. "Why'd you dump me here?"

He could feel Michael's curious gaze on the side of his face. "This is a good memory for you."

With a huff, Dean tossed the fishing pole down in favor of grabbing a beer out of the cooler by his feet. "Do you even notice anything besides your own righteous bullshit anymore?"

"Of course."

"Really?" Dean demanded incredulously. "Because I don't think you do." To Hell with it. He'd been careful up until this point. No baiting the archangel into smiting him or locking him away in his own subconscious for eternity. For however long that lasted. Michael stared at him blankly and Dean actually rolled his eyes. At the First Fucking Angel. "Do you even know why I like this dream so much?"

That look of smug superiority crossed his face. "It's secluded. There's nothing here. No one. You can be alone here. It supports my belief that you do actually agree with me."

"No! Fuck, it's... it's not like that. At all, man. Shit. Just... _open your damn eyes_. Look around you. What do you see?"

Clearly humoring him, Michael cast his eyes around to the cold blue mountains, red and gold trees, still waters. "It's a lake in the mountains."

"Yeah, no shit," Dean said moodily. "It's more than that. Sure, there aren't any people here. Everyone needs to get away from humanity for a while. I'll give you that. But, this shit is _beauty_. God created this - all of this. And it's _awesome_. There's a reason it's here."

Michael scoffed. "Ecosystems such as this are necessary to the propagation of the species and ensuring the world turning on."

"Wow, you angels are all annoyingly literal."

"That's the purpose of places such as this."

"Yeah, yeah, that's _how_ it's here, but not _why_."

Michael was obviously starting to lose patience with him. "Philosophy is one of the most aggravating human traits."

"It's how people explain your kind and your dad," Dean returned with a smirk. He stood and walked to the edge of the dock, feeling the damp wind on his face. "Places like this are here for humans to remember life. What it's for. What it's about. We moved into cities and work too hard, and forget everything except the crap that we have to deal with to survive. But there are oceans, mountains, lakes, hot springs, whatever. We go there to remember how to live. It's important."

"This won't convince me, Dean."

"You've been riding me for a week. And you haven't noticed _anything_ worth saving?"

"No."

Dean swung around. "Fuck you, Mike. _Seriously_ , fuck you." He balled his fists at his sides, letting the rage boil into him. It was something and he was glad to be feeling anything at all. Maybe he really could control some of this. All he had to do was get mad. Michael made it super fucking easy. "We aren't mindless robots like you and yours. God gave us something called free will, and we use it. It's important! Okay, sure, not everyone is good. I've seen the worst of it, but I've also seen the best. Not even most people are bad. You gotta know that. For every murderer or criminal out there, I've seen five other people willing to risk their lives for someone they don't even know. And that's saying a lot in my line of work."

He had stepped up right into the archangel's face while he was talking, but if there was ever a time to pull off the break, it was now. Michael couldn't do much more to him. 

"There's a reason they call you the Righteous Man," Michael said. 

"I'll stand in front of God with a clear conscience," Dean answered firmly.

"As will I," Michael returned.

"Then prove it."

"You will see the right of it, Dean Winchester. You must." Michael gave him a hard look and then he was gone. Dean swore darkly. He wasn't getting through. If that was the case, he'd have to fight his way out. He'd win. There was no other option. 

But how could he... his head snapped up. He could... _feel_ something. A strange pull. It felt like it was coming from the sky, but it wasn't. It was fucking with him being shoved out of his own body. What was it? Where was it coming from? He closed his eyes, face turned to the sun. He focused on every sensory distraction one by one and forced them to disappear. The waves lapping against the dock. Gone. The feeling of the warm sun on his face. Forgotten. The cool wind on his skin. Ignored. The smell of the pine trees. Away.

Now he could feel the tug properly. It was so _familiar_. It started as a deep longing that faded to a dull ache. All he wanted to do was drag it closer and curl around it. _Cas_. Castiel. Dean could feel him out there searching. It was useless to pray for him. Michael seemed to be able to block all of angel radio from him. But he couldn't stop everything. He'd tried and Dean had stopped that much. Something about him and Cas being together had left something behind. It wasn't anything definite, and nothing he could really pinpoint, but it was there. He could feel it, and his soul - or whatever - cried out for it. Dean Winchester would deny himself a lot of things, but this was not one of those things. He brought it into focus. Fuck, it felt so good. It meant Cas was around somewhere searching. And he was close. He had to be. Which meant... oh, shit. He was going to take on Michael.

Stupid fucking angel! He had to get out. He had to get there. He couldn't let Michael have the wheel here. He couldn't have Castiel's blood on his hands. But how could he get there? How? _How_?! 

" _CASTIEL_!" he screamed to the sky.

xXx

"It was foolish of you to come here, Castiel," Michael said.

Watching his every move without blinking, Castiel stepped around the gravestones, keeping distance between himself and the archangel. "No, it wasn't. You knew I'd come."

Michael stopped and took a seat on one of the granite headstones. "Actually, I didn't know that. I don't understand you. Why are you so prepared to die for humans?"

"I'm not."

"Yet, here you are."

"I'm prepared to die for Dean."

Michael smiled and it looked so much like Dean for a moment that Castiel felt his heart skip a beat. Michael was right. It was foolish of him to be here. He'd never win a battle against him, even with a team of humans and two other archangels at his back. It was a suicide mission. And maybe that was why he'd insisted on doing this part alone. Even Sam had admitted that if anyone could get through to Dean, it would be Castiel. He prayed that was the case.

"I will give you that privilege."

"Let me speak to him."

"No."

"Why not?"

Scoffing, Michael said, "you know why not. You think that if I release Dean to speak to you, that you can change any of this. But you can't, Castiel. This is bigger than you, and me, and all of existence. This is our Father's will."

"I don't believe you," Castiel said. "You know that not everything He says comes to pass. This could be a warning to humanity as much as anything else. It doesn't have to be a decree."

Michael crossed his ankles casually and spread his hands. "It is. Lucifer was His favorite child. And he betrayed us all - and humans - in the worst possible way. Lucifer perverted God's laws and tainted what God called His greatest creations. And I have been called to right the wrongs that my brother has done."

"I doesn't have to be this way. There are things worth saving."

Michael dipped his head, almost looking contrite. "I take no pleasure in this, Brother. Do you think that I want to fight Lucifer? I love him. But I will do what I'm told. I don't expect a renegade child such as yourself to understand."

Castiel made to argue, but without warning, Michael lunged forward, blade out, and Castiel reacted purely on instinct. He drew his angel blade and swung it up, but Gabriel was there first, blocking the thrust that sounded like thunder when they met. His entire being rattled with the force of it, driving him back as he dug his feet in. 

Michael snarled. "You won't harm this vessel. He means too much to you."

"Not to me," Gabriel gritted out. He splayed one hand out towards Castiel, blasting him back out of the way. Then his full focus was on Michael. They fought like true warriors. In an instant, Castiel knew that he'd never be a match for either of them. Especially when one of them was inhabiting Dean Winchester. 

Another clash of their blades made the ground lurch and rumble. Castiel fell, but Balthazar caught him and hauled him up by the collar of his trench coat. "Easy now," he said conversationally. 

"Gabriel will be killed," Castiel gasped. 

"Not if your aim is good." Balthazar handed him a glass bottle and a lighter. "I'll tell you when." With a murderous grin he shot forward into the fray. Together he and Gabriel held their ground, though Michael was stronger than the both of them put together. For a moment it appeared that they would prevail, but with an angry shout, Michael thrust his blade up and it sliced straight up Gabriel's chest. He barely had time to dodge, but the wound bled freely as he stumbled back and collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. 

"No!" Castiel yelled at the same time Gabriel bellowed, "stay _back_!"

In a fit of desperation, Balthazar gave Castiel a thumbs up before sucker punching Michael in the gut and shoving him as hard as he could.

Without a second thought, Castiel lit the cloth hanging out of the bottle. Just as Michael came to a halt, Castiel called, "hey, Assbutt!"

Michael swung around and Castiel threw the Molotov cocktail as hard as he could. It shattered at Michael's feet, instantly surrounding him in a ring of holy fire.

"This won't hold me for long," Michael raged.

"It doesn't have to." Castiel stepped to the very edge of the flame, feeling the holy fire on his face. "Let me speak to Dean."

"No," Michael spat. 

Raising his voice as commanding and loud as he could, Castiel demanded, "Dean! Fight him! I'm here! Answer me!"

It appeared to do nothing for a moment. Michael sneered. But then he doubled over, clutching at his head and crying out. "No!"

"Dean!" Castiel called again, desperately. "Please, Dean, keep at it! You're breaking through! Come back to me!" Michael writhed. The fire exploded and was instantly was gone. Castiel jumped back as Michael fell to his knees. He moaned, folding into himself further.

"Dean."

There was a long, drawn out silence. And then, "Castiel," came his raspy, pained breath. "Cas."

This time, Castiel rushed forward without stopping, going down to his knees. "Dean?"

Green eyes pried themselves opened and Castiel nearly sobbed. It was _him_. "It's me." Dean slid forward towards Castiel like his body weighed a ton. Castiel caught him and held him close to his chest. Felt Dean's heartbeat against his own. 

"I need your help. Michael won't listen," Castiel said.

Pressing his face into Castiel's shoulder, Dean answered, "I know. He won't listen to me, either. He's trying to take me over completely." It felt like a monumental effort, but Dean picked himself up to a sitting position and took a death grip on Castiel's forearms. His eyes hardened. "Listen to me, Cas, and don't argue. I don't have a lot of time here. Michael's fighting me and he'll be back in control in a minute."

"Tell me, Dean," Castiel said. "Anything."

Dean took a deep breath and all the sorrow in the world twisted his face. "You gotta stop me, man."

"Dean-"

" _Please_. Cas, it has to be you. Before Michael's back in control, you have to stop this. Don't let Michael win. He can't be reasoned with. He'll kill everyone."

"He'll kill _you_ ," Castiel insisted.

Dean shook his head vigorously. "It doesn't matter! I'm just one person." His voice wavered and he choked on the last of his sentence. His hands were freezing as he pressed them against Castiel's face. "This is bigger than us and you know it."

"I do, Dean. I do." He wished he sounded stronger. His heart was breaking seeing Dean so hurt. So broken. So _determined_. There was nothing he could do to fight him. "I don't want it to be." He reached up, too and wiped Dean's tears with his thumbs.

"It's not up to us. You know I don't want to ask you this, but I have to."

Castiel tapped their foreheads together and stared at the frozen grass. Humans were so much stronger than angels. He slipped his blade out of his sleeve. His hands trembled, but Dean bolstered him. He'd always been able to do that. Callused fingers closed over his own, steadying the angel blade. "I love you, Dean," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Cas," Dean answered. "Fuck, I love you. Don't forget that with your million years of existence."

"I won't." He swore it.

"Kiss me."

Castiel surged into it, kissing the coldness out of Dean's very soul. He had to. He'd take it all. He had to do this. He'd do anything for Dean. _Anything_! He'd give anything. _He swore it_.

Dean yanked their joined hands forward and stabbed himself straight through the heart. Castiel shut his eyes tightly against the explosion of light and shrieking of Michael's death.

It was over in an instant and left Castiel's ears ringing as he squeezed Dean's lifeless body to his own. "Please don't hate me, Dean," he murmured against his forehead. With one final kiss to the human's hairline, Castiel drew in a deep breath and let his grace overcome and erupt out of his vessel like an overheating nuclear reactor. The force sent a shock wave that leveled all the trees within a hundred yards following an explosion of searing, supernova light. When it was over, there was nothing left but burned earth and the scent of fresh timber. The world around Stull Cemetery reduced to silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter left. Thank you all for sticking with me and my shitty posting schedule on this one! I LOVE YOU ALL! Your constant support and comments keep me going. They really, really do.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

"He's not breathing, Sam! Drive faster, goddammit!"

"The petal's to the floor! How do you know he's supposed to be breathing, anyway?"

Dean paid no attention to his brother, putting his full force and training behind CPR, muttering the whole time. "C'mon, Cas. Don't do this to me, man. You can't just be a hero and then die on me. I won't let you do that. Breath, Cas. _Come, on, Castiel, you sonofabitch, breathe_!"

Sam took a turn too sharp, throwing Dean off the back seat of the Impala and onto the floor mats. He scrambled up to start again, but in that second, Castiel gasped and wheezed, drawing in rattling breaths that were the most beautiful sounds Dean had ever heard. "Jesus, Cas. Fuck. Keep breathing, man. We'll be at the hospital soon." He tilted Castiel's head so that he had an open airway and did his best to keep him comfortable and still.

Sam flew into the hospital's parking lot fifteen minutes later straight to the back employee entrance. A handful of nurses were already there with a stretcher since he'd called ahead. Unable to put his car above his angel, Dean kicked open the back door and slid out so they could get Castiel out of the car. Always prepared, Sam pulled his staff badge out of his back pocket and followed at the head of the group, barking orders and vitals as they rushed towards an exam room. Dean followed until he was stopped at the waiting room doors by Meg. He attempted to muscle past her, but she was used to people bigger than her trying to bully around. She expertly strong-armed him into a chair.

"Sit the hell down there and let your brother run the circus. You'll only slow things down."

"Help him," Dean pleaded, not sitting, but also not trying to gain access to the room.

"I'm barred from treating angels. You know that, Dean-o."

_Won't be a problem_ , his mind whispered. He couldn't think about what that meant. He couldn't remember much of anything. "I don't... know what he is anymore."

Shocked, Meg peeked over her shoulder through the windows on the ER access doors. "Interesting," she mused. "'Kay, I'm there. Talk to ya in a few." Dean silently thanked her as she disappeared to join Castiel's treatment team.

He paced like a caged animal for several minutes before a hand on his shoulder made him jump and stop. "Jesus, Benny," be breathed.

"I heard the call," he explained. "Was gonna clock in soon. You okay?" His assessing gaze swept over Dean's body. "Hell of a thing you did."

Dean shuffled over to one of the plastic waiting room chairs, collapsing heavily into it like a deflating balloon. "Not a scratch on me. Michael's gone. Cas killed him, I think. I don't remember much of anything. Just... I made Cas stab me to get Michael outta me."

Benny sat down next to him with a shocked expression. "He killed you?"

Dropping his head into his hands, voice muffled around his fingers, Dean said, "I forced him. Jesus, can you imagine? Michael was taking over. You guys were right. I shouldn't have done it. And in the end, the only way out of it was for Cas to fucking _kill_ me. He'll never forgive me for this if he survives."

"What do you mean, 'if he survives?' Won't his angel mojo fix him right up?"

"I think..." he trailed off and looked back towards the access doors. "I think it's gone."

"How?"

"Dunno. I really can't remember. We woke up near the car. And he wasn't breathing. I got him back on the drive in, but he wasn't healing himself. I'll have to wait and see what Sam says."

"He'll be fine," Benny assured. It was less than confident, but Dean appreciated it all the same.

There was no news for hours. Long enough that Dean lost track of time. He sat as long as he could manage, leg bouncing in irritation until the jittery anxiety forced him to pace back and forth across the hall until Sam finally had news. He rushed over to his brother, who looked pretty troubled. "Sam."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Panic welled up through Dean, his legs turning to jelly. "Is he...?"

"No!" Sam rushed to assure him. "He's not dead. He's just... not okay. Not normal. For an angel, I mean."

"Shit. What can you tell me?"

"Since you're listed as his next of kin with power of attorney, I can tell you anything you wanna know." He motioned for Dean to follow him.

Dean turned around to Benny, who held up his hands. "No worries, brother. You go take care of your angel. I'm on shift in a few. Just didn't want you sitting out here alone."

"Thanks. I mean it, Benny."

He winked. "Not a problem. You need anything, you call."

Watching Benny go, Dean thought fiercely how amazing all of his friends were to him. But then his focus was back entirely on Sam as he led him back towards the VIP elevators.

"What happened?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Well, his vitals were all over the place for a while. Nothing was stabilizing, but when it did..." he passed the tablet over showing Castiel's chart.

"This can't be right," Dean said, tabbing through the pages. "It's all..."

"Human." Sam finished. "Actually, pretty damn healthy for a human, considering." He swiped his access card at the elevator and hit the call button. 

"So, what's up with him?"

"A lot. He's still unconscious, and we're keeping him that way for now." The door slid open and they stepped inside. "He's responding to some external stimuli, which is a very good sign, but there's clear head trauma, broken bones, internal bruising, lacerations."

Every word drove Dean deeper and deeper into a depression. Human and heavily injured. No wonder he felt so cold at the moment. He couldn't feel Cas anymore because there was nothing left to feel for. No grace, no connection with his soul. What had he done? What would Cas do now that he was human? He'd been alive for, like, _ever_ as an angel. His life would be so much fucking worse without his wings. Or. Whatever.

"He'll recover, Dean," Sam said softly. The doors opened and they stepped into the VIP ward, which was almost relaxing with its quieter hallways and more natural lighting. "I'm sure of it. It'll take time, but he'll get back to normal."

"Human ain't normal for him," Dean protested darkly. "I fucked it all up, and now Cas is fighting for his life without his mojo."

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and tugged him to a stop. "This isn't on you, Dean."

"How is it _not_?" Realizing he'd almost yelled it, he glanced around at all of the disapproving looks from the nurses. He stood closer to Sam and said in a fierce stage whisper, "this is my fault, Sam. I was the one who agreed to let Michael take me. I was the one who set all this up. I was the one who couldn't fight him. I was the one who looked Cas right in the damn face and told him to kill me. How is this not on me?"

Sam huffed. "Because Cas has free will, too. And it wasn't just given to him like it was to you and me. He took it and ran with it. Something like that... Dean, what he did for you... I don't think he'd be too happy with you diminishing it like you are. He did what he did because he wanted to. It meant something to him."

Sam's reasonable argument took the wind out of Dean's sails immediately. Scrubbing his face, he said, "I'll try to keep that in mind. I just need to feel guilty for a while or else I won't be able to function."

The room they stopped in front of was the same one Castiel had been in before. The door was closed, blinds on the windows drawn. Once again, Sam halted their forward progress. "He looks worse than he is."

With a snort of disbelief, Dean said, "he's human and almost died. That's pretty bad."

"You can stay as long as you want," Sam said instead of arguing the point. "I listed you as family."

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice. He pushed open the door and stepped into the dark room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and even then, the only light was a thin sliver from the partially opened bathroom door and the glow of the monitors. Dean walked around the bed to the far side by the pull-out sofa against the window. He sat in the high backed chair and carefully placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder, only half looking at him. He didn't think he'd be able to take him all in at once without losing his damn mind.

"I'm here, Cas," he murmured. "I can't remember a thing, but I guess you really... fuck it, I don't know what to say." He stroked his hand down Castiel's arm and threaded their fingers together. "I should have listened to you." He dug deep for the courage to actually look the angel - former? - angel in the face. Take the sacrifice in. Sam hadn't been sugarcoating it. Castiel looked like fresh Hell now that Dean got a good look at him. He'd been covered in dirt and grime, most of the wounds obscured. It looked like his right side had taken most of the damage. His right arm and leg were both set in casts. The side of his face had angry-looking gashes down past his neck; some sutured. They'd definitely scar. Not that Dean minded. All in all, if Dean had to guess, he'd say that it appeared as though Castiel had fallen from quite a height. He'd probably blasted them both to safety and both fallen back to Earth. Castiel had protected him. And healed him before his grace was gone. Jesus. What had he ever done to deserve this angel? This _man_?

He dropped his head down to the bed, nuzzling Castiel's left arm. "I shouldn't have done any of the bullshit I pulled. And now... Sam told me not to, but I'm still gonna blame myself." He let the soft, rhythmic sounds of the machines lull him to dozing. Now that everything had calmed down, he was really fucking exhausted from the waning adrenaline. Bone deep weariness. He fell asleep in the uncomfortable position sitting in the chair and resting his forehead on the edge of the bed. He never let go of Castiel's hand.

xXx

Castiel had never been in so much pain before. In fact, he hadn't realized this much pain was even possible. Keeping his eyes firmly shut, he took stock as best as he could. He was alive. That was something. Since he wasn't healed, he concluded that his grace was gone saving himself and Dean. _Dean_. He pried his gummy eyes open, unable to move more. Shocks of pain hammered through him with every breath. His right arm and leg weren't moving, either. Being human sucked so far. He tried to move his left leg. Good, that worked. His left hand was pinned by something.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head. His brain throbbed red and and black spots behind his eyes. _Dean_. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He wanted to make sure he was okay. That it had all been worth it. Nothing. His throat didn't want to work. He was parched. But he managed to pry his hand up and drop it lightly on top of Dean's head. It felt so good. He gingerly ran his fingers through the short crop of soft brown hair. Though limited in his movements, he was able to maneuver his fingers enough in a ghost of a scalp massage that made Dean grumble and shift.

Green eyes blinked open and took a long minute to focus on him. Then Dean jerked up in the chair, Castiel's hand falling away. "Cas! You're awake!" He reached over the bed to press the nurse call button. Then he pulled back enough to lean over him, filling Castiel's vision with his crushed, concerned expression. It hurt the same as the physical pain to see. He desperately wished that he could move and reassure him. He was fine. Or counted himself as fine still being alive. "Thought I'd lost you, man. What can I do? What can I get you?"

His lips cracked when he parted them again, but Dean understood immediately. Of course he did. Castiel felt a significant thrill of love for the man as Dean picked up a Styrofoam cup off the tray table that rattled with ice chips. He pressed one to Castiel's lips. The cold comforted him as he sucked it out of Dean's hand and rolled it around in his mouth before swallowing. After another, the dryness in his throat began to abate.

But his voice was barely above a whisper when he said, "welcome back, Dean."

With a laugh that sounded a little wet, Dean answered, "you too, Cas. Do you know what happened?"

"Yes," he answered. "I remember."

"Good, 'cause I don't. I don't remember anything after I told you to, uh." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Do you hate me for doing it?"

Dean couldn't have been more shocked if Castiel had stripped naked and danced around the room singing classic rock anthems. He was too slow to answer in his incredulity, and Castiel's face fell. 

"I promised never to hurt you, but I did."

Dean jumped to his feet and shook his head vigorously. "No! That's not it at all!" Castiel winced at the outburst, and Dean immediately backed off, sitting back down and taking the former angel's hand again. "That ain't it, man," he said more quietly. "You did something impossible for me. I asked you to do something that no one should ever have to ask anyone to do. But you trusted me and did it."

Castiel's eyes flicked away to the ceiling. "I'd never deny you anything."

"Yeah. Cas, I-"

Meg and Sam busted through the door right then, rushing to the bedside. Meg hip checked Dean out of the way and began checking Castiel's vitals. Sam started the physical exam; checking Castiel's eyes, asking him about his pain levels, doing basic responsiveness tests. Once satisfied, Sam finished making notes on the chart, administered more pain medication, and looked supremely satisfied. "Good to have you back, Cas," he said.

"Thank you, Sam. I understand that I wouldn't be here now if not for your excellent medical care."

"Dean was the one doing CPR all the way here," he said.

Castiel's eyes flew to Dean. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "You were pretty dead there for a few minutes," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered, as though it was his fault.

"What the hell?" Sam said. "Dude, don't apologize. You're back. You're gonna heal. It's all good as far as we're concerned. Right, Dean?"

"Right," Dean said firmly.

After a pause, Castiel said, "I'm not an angel anymore." The simple proclamation sent a pallor over the room. Even Meg stepped back out of the way.

Sam broke the silence. "Your vitals would suggest that."

"I can feel it," Castiel confirmed. "My grace is gone."

Sam sat heavily onto the stool on the right side of the bed. Dean sat stock still in the chair. Meg slid onto the couch. "How'd it happen?" she asked.

"When Dean died," Castiel said succinctly. The two other humans flinched, but Castiel continued on. "I caught his soul and dragged it back. Healed him. It took all of my effort to bring him back and expel Michael. To get us to safety. To make sure that Michael was truly gone. That we were all safe."

Sam cleared his throat during the next jag of silence. "Your injuries are consistent with a fall from a pretty big height. Do you remember what happened after? I found you and Dean unconscious by the car a mile away from the site."

"Yes," Castiel said. "I flew Dean and myself out of there. But my grace expenditure to Dean was too great. I crashed."

"Twice is a habit," Dean quipped, just a bit weakly. "Who taught you how to fly?" The teasing had no levity behind it, but the attempt still cleared a great deal of tension from the air. Even Castiel smiled now that the medication was working.

"I was lucky to make it as far as I did. I'm thankful that I was able to protect you."

Dean rubbed his thumb over the back of Castiel's hand. "You did great, Cas. Don't have a scratch on me. But... maybe this isn't the right time, but what are you gonna do? You're human now. Is there any chance of getting your grace back?"

"No," Castiel said softly. "It's been expelled completely. There's nothing left to recover. The only bit that remains is in you."

Well, _that_ was sort of weird. "Can I give it back?"

Castiel's eyes widened with anxiety. "You would want to?"

"It's not that simple," Dean hastened to assure him. "I appreciate what you did for me. I'm alive because of you, but you gave up everything, Cas. You're human now."

Castiel's expression softened. "Does that change it?"

"You mean change us?" Dean leaned closer.

"Yes."

"No," Dean said decisively. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll help you with whatever you need, always." He bent his head, fixated on Castiel's lips and his small, pleased smile.

Meg cleared her throat. "Not in front of Mom and Dad," she said. "We'll be out of your hair in a minute." Dean got to his feet, stepping away and looking anything but chagrined. Meg and Sam finished their examination now that the immediate questions were out of the way.

When they were done, Sam said, "I'm glad you're still with us, Cas. Human or angel."

 

"Thank you," Castiel answered sincerely.

And then he was left alone with Dean. Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Being human sucks, y'know."

Castiel chuckled. "It does seem very inconvenient."

"You're gonna have to eat, shower, piss, get old... die."

Brazenly, Castiel acknowledged all of it with a nod and answered, "I don't care."

A muscle twitched in Dean's jaw. "You will once you're off those hardcore pain meds."

He couldn't lift his hand too far, but Castiel turned his palm up and waited for Dean to come back to the side of the bed. Dean stared for a minute, but gave in eventually, falling back into the chair and taking Castiel's hand in both of his. "A single lifetime with you is a blessing, Dean. I look forward to it."

What was he supposed to say to that? He tipped his head down so as not to let the conflicting emotions of guilt and pleasure show. "Yeah, we'll see," he muttered. But Castiel just smiled at him. He'd take it.

xXx

A month later, Castiel was much less content being a human. Especially while in recovery from broken bones and serious wounds. He complained. A lot. But rather than make him angry, Dean found it kind of endearing, expcept for the times it made him feel pretty damn guilty. Those days were becoming fewer and farther between, though. Today was a good day. He was more amused by Castiel's grumpiness than put off by it. The current complaint? "Will I ever get used to urinating?"

Dean chuckled. "Maybe." Castiel had woken up on the proverbial wrong side of the bed that morning, healing bones aching in the cold air, the lacerations on his face itching terribly after having the stitches removed. His unbudging moody scowl had inspired Dean to indulge him, though.

"I'm going back to bed. Sleeping is such a waste of time, but I can't seem to stop being tired."

Dean put an arm around the former angel and led him back to his bedroom. "You're still healing. Stop pushing yourself, man. You'll get there."

Cas plopped onto the bed, scowl carved in stone. Dean knelt down on the floor and removed Castiel's shoe and readjusted the fracture boot so that it was more comfortable. He climbed up to the mattress and sat shoulder to shoulder with him. Castiel's head plunked onto Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know I shouldn't complain. I chose this. It's just..." his voice faded and he didn't continue.

"I know," Dean reassured him softly. "It'll get better." He turned his face and caught Castiel's lips in a chaste kiss. "What can I do to cheer you up?"

"That helped," Castiel answered with an edge of petulance despite the slight loosening of his frown.

Dean kissed him again. And then again. And again, until Castiel didn't let him escape, delving his tongue between Dean's lips. Fuck, he'd missed this. Castiel made every nerve in his body sing. He'd wanted to touch him this whole time, but it hadn't been possible. He knew in large part that he was handling Castiel with kid gloves, but there weren't any established protocols for aiding the transition of an angel to a human. In the back of his mind, he realized that Cas probably needed more time to heal and adjust, but he couldn't bring himself to discourage the attention when it was so willingly given. Before he knew what was happening, Castiel sighed and fell back against the pillows, pulling Dean down with him.

Lightly, Dean traced the pink scar down Castiel's face from temple to neck. "You sure?" he asked.

Castiel shivered at the touch. "Yes," he whined. "Please don't tell me I'm not healed enough. I want you to touch me. It's been too long."

"I'm spoiling you," Dean admonished warmly. But to hell with stopping. He was already at half mast and harder by the second when he slipped his fingers along Castiel's collarbone to the buttons on his shirt, popping each one off slowly and taking his time stroking the exposed skin as he worked his way down. 

Castiel's back arched when Dean's hand made it to the button of his jeans. "Some would say _mph_ that you're not spoiling me enough."

"Greedy," Dean murmured heatedly, opening the button and slowly pulling the zipper down. Castiel lifted his hips so that Dean could push the denim down. Despite Castiel's growled protest, Dean still took the time to remove the fracture boot, then the jeans, and then ensure that the boot was attached properly again before getting back to the fun. He pressed his lips against Castiel's knee, then spread the man's legs gently, nipping at his inner thighs. He enjoyed the way that Castiel's muscles jumped every time his mouth touched a new area. His tongue, teeth, and lips worked at Castiel's flushed skin until he was left hard and leaking. 

Dean glanced up and felt his own dick twitch. Being with Castiel as an angel had been a revelation. But Castiel as a human? There was something completely uninhibited about him. There was none of the same restraint he'd had before. He couldn't fight the human emotions and sensations now that they weren't tamped down by angelic mojo. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, his left hand fisted into the sheets, face flushed with desire, eyes squeezed shut.

"I got you, Cas," Dean said. Because he did. He understood all of this. Castiel was like him now. So he could give as good as he got. He flicked his tongue out to taste the underside of Castiel's cock, licking upwards to the bead of precome at the head, and without pausing, opened his mouth and took in as much of Castiel's length as he could with gentle suction.

The filthy sounds that erupted from Castiel's mouth spurred Dean on to a punishing assault on the senses. His head bobbed quickly, taking Castiel in a little bit more with every downward push. Without pausing, he unbuttoned his own jeans to release his aching dick, stroking himself just shy of painfully without any lube, save for his sweating hand. 

Castiel unclenched his left hand from the sheets and tangled his fingers in Dean's hair, grabbing tightly, but not pulling him off. His unintelligible words of encouragement rose loudly and filled the room.

It was impossible to last long. Castiel began to tense; first his thighs, then his twitching abs, then his jaw. Dean moaned deep in his chest, feeling his balls tighten in warning. So fucking close.

He ignored Castiel's warning and doubled down faster, one final push. He relaxed his throat and took Castiel down to the hilt, eyes watering with the effort not to choke. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Especially when he felt that familiar gold and blue burn from his soul that he never thought would be there again. That beautiful aching bond. It was still _there_. Somewhere. Hidden inside him. Protected. The joy that filled him was almost overwhelming. He shut his eyes and _shoved_ at the feeling as hard as he could, pushing it towards Castiel. It must have worked because Castiel came then, hard and noisy straight down the back of Dean's throat. Dean eased up immediately, though not completely until he felt his own orgasm crash over him, whiting out his vision for a moment before shattering.

He sighed through his nose, letting Castiel's dick slip out of his mouth and then he gingerly laid his head on the former angel's abdomen while catching his breath. "That was amazing," he said hoarsely, throat wrecked.

"Hmm," Castiel answered sleepily. He was still for a moment while Dean lazily stripped off his t-shirt and wiped them off. Castiel startled. Dean lifted his head. "You," he breathed.

"What?" Dean crawled up the bed and studied Castiel, worried. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he answered wonderingly. "I think you... healed me. A little." He raised his right arm and removed the brace. He held still for a second as if afraid to chance it. Dean held his breath. Castiel slowly wiggled his fingers. Then more confidently. He rotated his wrist. "You healed the rest of the break."

"Your face, too," Dean said excitedly. The scars were now, just thin white lines that would likely never fade further. "I felt it," he said, stroking Castiel's face and unable to resist kissing him. "The bond thing. I tried to give some of it back to you. I guess." He felt his ears heating.

Castiel smiled and put his newly-healed hand over his chest. "It's there. I didn't know it was possible. But it seems the residual grace I gave you can still resonate." He looked happier about that than Dean had ever seen him.

Still. He had to know. "That's good, right?" he asked uncertainly.

Castiel picked his head up and kissed Dean deeply. "It's wonderful. I'm so glad." His expression became more solemn. "To tell you the truth, I've been feeling a bit... empty. I'd been cut off from Heaven since I first came to Earth, so I was used to not sensing or hearing my brothers and sisters, but now that I can't sense them even if I tried... it's a difficult adjustment."

"I understand," Dean said softly, running his hands through Castiel's hair. "If it helps, you've got me. For like... ever." Why was that sappy shit so hard to say?

Castiel only made the embarrassment worse when he answered, "it means everything. I love you."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, burying his burning face onto Castiel's shoulder. "Love ya too."

They settled comfortably into each other's arms. Though content, Dean distinctly felt the miles they had to go. There were still troubles in the world, threat of annihilation or not. Cas would need to find something to do now that he was human. Gabriel and Balthazar had reported continued unrest in Heaven since the command structure was shot to shit, but they were handling it as liaisons between the angels and the humans. Slow progress. There'd always be _something_ out there to fight.

Then again, Dean supposed that part of being human was never being finished with living until it was your time. And as long as he had what he'd gained, he'd be grateful every single day. Beyond that.

"I'll give you the world, Cas," he said.

Castiel shifted until they were facing each other and planted a kiss on Dean's forehead. "I'll never regret any of it, Dean. I swear."

That was all he needed to hear. Rough roads ahead or not, they'd always have each other from here on out. He pulled Castiel closer into his arms and shut his eyes, dozing. Castiel's warm breath on his chest relaxed him. His last thought before falling asleep was, _this ain't too bad for forever, even if tomorrow never comes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this fic, despite some schedule setbacks and legal problems with it. Each and every one of you has made this fic so enjoyable to write. I'm deeply grateful for your support, comments, kudos, and support through the whole process! I hope you stick around for my future fics, too! Also, if you like, I'm on Tumblr! [JupiterJames](http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, this is probably gonna be a LOT longer than my last fic. However, I've written ahead a bit, so I should be able to keep up a regular release schedule. I'm HOPING for twice a week or more, but we'll see. If nothing else, it'll be once a week. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Please comment whenever you like! I enjoy reading and responding to all of them!
> 
> Also, find me on Tumblr! [Nerd Angel Ambriel](http://nerdangelambriel.tumblr.com) (Supernatural only blog), and [Jupiter James](http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com) (other fandoms and personal blog).


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